Ubiquitous
by Santoryuu3
Summary: TITLE CHANGED. High school detectives all over the world are disappearing, turning up dead two weeks later thousands of miles away from their homes. When Shinichi gets a mysterious letter and Heiji goes missing, Conan suspects the worst. Can the shrunken sleuth rescue his friend and catch the culprit before disaster strikes? Canon pairings.
1. In Which the Voice Speaks (Prologue)

**Hello, mina-san! I'm currently on hiatus from writing One Piece fics and have taken an interest in chibi tantei Edogawa Conan. This is my first story involving this anime, so please excuse any irregularities you may observe, and don't hesitate to inform me if I got a reference to a previous case wrong. There are a **_**lot **_**of cases.**

**A fair warning is issued to younger readers! Although I strongly frown upon foul language, some may be used in later chapters, along with possibly A, suggestive content, B, maiming, D, character deaths, or C, all of the above. The rating shall remain at T unless I deem it otherwise.**

**This fic includes canon pairings, meaning Shinichi/Ran, Sonoko/Makoto, Heiji/Kazuha, etc. Feel free to interpret any subtext into whichever pairing you so desire (I'm talking to you, KaiShin people). However, please do not judge a story based on its pairings.**

**Before you ask, no, I have no idea how long this will truly take. I have the basics of each chapter planned out, but I'm a sporadic person, and things often get changed. Rather than wondering how many chapters you have to look forward to, just enjoy the suspense while I wonder at how pathetic I am at making codes. -_-**

**Anyway, feedback is greatly appreciated! I love receiving reviews as much as the next person.**

**Sit back, relax, and enjoy **_**Down for the Count **_**by **_**Santoryuu3.**_

Chapter 1 – In Which The Voice Speaks

"_Come, Watson, come! The  
game is afoot!"  
__-Sherlock Holmes, __The Adventures of the Abbey Grange_

It was dark. All dark. Cold raced its icy fingers down his back, and he shivered uncontrollably. A drop of water plopped on his head, and the pitter-patter of rats scurrying at his feet echoed in his confinement chamber. The ropes that bound him rubbed his ankles and wrists raw, and he could feel the dried blood crack when he moved. A cut above his eye pulsed, and something warm slithered across his temple.

Rain pounded outside, the droplets sliding down the small window just above his head, barely large enough for a child to get through, much less a fully-grown adult. The roof had to be made of tin; it rattled and amplified the noise external the small confinement chamber ten fold. The temperature had dropped within what felt like the last hour or so, and he shivered uncontrollably as his naked chest took the full blast of cold whenever a draft broke through the wooden supports of his cell.

It was impossible to tell the time. How many days, weeks, months had it been? How long had he been gone? Was he being missed? Searched for? … Declared dead? A stab of pain splintered in his skull as the most recent headache pounded against his brain.

The Voice hadn't said anything for three eternities, and he was beginning to get a bit nervous. He wasn't afraid of the dark, no. He had been in so much worse situations than this. After all, he was a renowned detective. He had to be strong. If he didn't… if he failed… then it was all over.

Someone spoke.

His head jerked up, wincing as his tense and aching muscles creaked with the sudden movement. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, and his stomach rumbled in protest of this.

As the last time, he didn't recognize the language the person spoke in. It was foreign to him, and as much as he knew, he still could not determine what was being relayed to him. Fortunately, as per the norm, a computer-automated voice translated into his native tongue.

The Voice spoke a mixture of strange words, a different language, the speech altered to a point where it was impossible to discern femininity or masculinity. He caught _estas, _which he knew was Spanish for _You are. _Was it Spanish? It didn't seem so. Was it some complex mixture of several different languages?

"Are you comfortable?" said the computer in a monotonic female tone.

"Who are you!?" He yelled, voice strained from lack of use. "Show yourself!"

The Voice repeated its question._  
_

"Are you comfortable?" interpreted the computer translator.

He grit his teeth. "No."

"Excellent. Now on to the real issue at hand." The computer hummed.

_The Voice understands my language, _He thought. _It knows what I say. That means this foreign language he's speaking is probably a second or even a third._ A light smile ghosted on his lips. _Let's try something._

"I solved it, didn't I!?" He suddenly yelled out in English this time, straining at the ropes that bound him. This didn't result in anything other than reopening scabs. Warm blood pooled in his fingers. "I solved your codes! I did everything you asked! Now let them go! Now! Stop with this silly charade and release me!" Although his English wasn't good, he was still fairly confident he had been able to get his point across.

The Voice was silent for a long time. It seemed to be processing his question, whether it had to put the sudden second language into some kind of language base or what or decide to answer in English, but somewhere deep inside him, he knew The Voice would not give him a good answer whatever was causing the delay.

"You did not solve my codes. You failed." stated the computer.

"What the hell are you dishing out!" He yelled again. "This answer was…!"

Something whistled through the air, and a second later there was a sharp stinging on his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence. He let out a cry of pain instead as a fresh cut opened on his face. Blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his tongue.

The translation failed to interpret the rage and apparent loathing dripping from The Voice's tone. "Insolent detective," it droned. "You think you can speak when the need strikes you? Think again."

"I have every right to speak!" He said again, dropping back to his native tongue.

This time, there was no delay between language translations. "You lost that right when you accepted the challenge." said the computer.

"What challenge?" He scoffed. "I was forced against my will."

The Voice was quiet for a moment before continuing. It spoke its tongue slower now, and he caught the Spanish word for time, _tiempo._ Was it really Spanish...? Or could it be...?_  
_

"Your time's almost up. Anything else to say?"

"Time?"

He could almost see the devilish grin curling The Voice's lips as it spoke its last words to him._  
_

"Time's up." the computer said, as casually as if it were announcing the end of the testing session.

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. That was why it sounded like Spanish! "No way," he whispered. "Is that…!?"

The storm outside drowned out the sounds of screams, and anyone who did hear dared not venture near. Thunder pounded against the heavens, and lightning flashed across the sky. As the light illuminated the earth for a split second, a splash of red splattered against the glass window.

**So, what do you guys think so far? Let me know down in the review box! 5 reviews get you the next chapter!**

**The reason I did not have The Voice actually speak because I know of a little tool called Google translate. And that will take all the fun out of the trick I have lined up for you! All will be revealed in time, chickadees. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review.**

**Coming Up: Chapter 2 – In Which Conan Gets Interested**


	2. In Which Conan Gets Interested

**You know what I've noticed? Ran will, 98% of the time, not deny Sonoko's teasing of she and Shinichi being husband and wife. She just turns red in the face and goes "Mou, Sonoko!" Despite her being so worked up when suggested that they're dating. Am I the only one who noticed? Oh well.**

**I love these "In Which xxxx" chapter titles. They're so fun! :D**

**I forgot to mention last time, but this story will have spoilers up to the Mystery Train case. Just so you know. Stuff like Burbon's identity being revealed and the London arc have happened.**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews, guys! I seriously appreciate it. And as promised, here's the second chapter! And to those wonderful guest reviews, I'll reply below:**

**1412RenkoNalu -** You can smell the thrill! I can feel it tingling in my fingers when I write. That's a good match! I hope I live up to your expectations, and thanks for your wonderful review!

**Great (Guest) - **Don't worry, I don't _plan _to kill off everyone's favorite Osakan, but like I said before, I'm a sporadic person. And I am following Sandman, the one with the guy killing all the kids with the six syllables. I get giddy every time I see a chapter update. :D Thanks for your review! Check back soon for another update.

**Shadowhunter417 **- Thanks so much for your enthusiasm! I really mean it. Thanks for putting in the fifth review and allowing me to update! :)

Chapter 2 – In Which Conan Gets Interested

"_It is a capital mistake to theorize before one  
has data. Insensibly, one begins to  
twist facts to suit theories,  
instead of theories  
to suit facts."  
__-Sherlock Holmes, __A Scandal in Bohemia_

"The body of Yakov Goldstein, eighteen, was discovered last Tuesday night in Cairo, Egypt by an elderly couple on an evening walk. Goldstein has been missing since three weeks ago, when he disappeared from the streets of Tel Aviv in Israel on his way to school. The deceased, killed by a single shot in the heart, was a well-renowned high school detective all around Israel and the surrounding area. Goldstein's parents deeply grieve the loss of their son, and implore anyone who knows anything to please contact local authorities. This makes the eleventh body of a teenage high school detective discovered, all eleven from foreign countries and being discovered hundreds of miles away from their home. Police are baffled, and ask that teens be wary of suspicious persons. It is unknown where the culprit will strike next. In other news…"

The television screen flickered to black as he pressed the power button. Seven-year-old Edogawa Conan sat back into the small couch in the Mouri Detective Agency, a sad look overcoming his normally bright and cheerful lapis lazuli eyes. He had been following the reports since they began all those innumerable weeks ago, starting with Chinese detective Sung Wang Ming, found in Poland after being missing for two weeks. At first he hadn't paid much attention, but once the third detective, French teen Juste Ackhart was found in Russia, things got interesting. One was an accident. Two was a coincidence. Three was a pattern. As they saying went, anyway.

With each new body found, the false child grew more and more intrigued in the case. Sure, he worried a bit for himself and his fellow Japanese high school detectives, namely Hattori and that other nuisance that sometimes showed up to KID heists, Saguru Hakuba. Should he also be concerned for Sera Masumi? Nah, she hadn't made much of a name for herself in the detective world, so she should be fine, but that didn't put Conan any more at ease. There was no telling how much sick serial killers knew about their potential victims.

Representatives from all over the world had already had two meetings regarding the discoveries, one of which Kogoro had attended, being the "famous" detective he was. The young sleuth had tried to listen in to Kogoro's phone conversations with Megure-keibu regarding the conference and the case, but he was always ejected from the room, and attempts to bug the room all ended in failure, whether the device being discovered or stepped on. He hadn't even seen one photo of the bodies, and he was sure the old man was keeping an extra close watch on the case files, specifically so that the "freeloader" didn't get into them. This seemed to only drive Conan further in his determination to get his hands on those files. Attempts made late at night resulted in failure as well, for Kogoro had taken extra precautions to lock the files in the desk, and the key was not in its usual hiding spot.

The worldwide case didn't stink of the Organization, the men who had shrunk his body, but it sure as hell smelled something awful. And Conan was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Conan let out a sudden sneeze, the tremor shaking his entire sickly frame. He groaned and fell back into the pillows, wiping the snot from his running nose. There wasn't much thinking he could do, not with this massive cold wreaking havoc in his body. Having his immune system reduced to that of a child along with his physical form was one of the plethora of downsides when it came to being shrunk. He dryly reminded himself not to get involved in more shady deals.

Ran had called Shinichi's phone once or twice, and Conan knew why the moment her name popped up on caller ID. She never mentioned the true reason behind her calls, but he knew that she just wanted to make sure he was okay and safe. Which, unbeknownst to her, he obviously was, speaking through his bowtie in the bathroom or in an alley on the way home from school.

"Tadaima!" A voice greeted, and Conan craned his neck backwards to reveal the upside down form of said Mouri Ran, currently returning home from school, accompanied by Sonoko and Sera. Conan's eyes instantly narrowed as his gaze landed on the latter of Ran's companions. He still didn't completely trust the tomboyish female detective, even after confirmation that she was not Bourbon.

"Welcome back!" Conan greeted as best he could, his voice coming out weak and ragged.

"How's the brat with glasses feeling today?" Sonoko asked, sitting on the armrest of the sofa and setting her school bag by her feet.

"Give him a few days and he'll be back on his little detective feet!" Sera responded cheerfully, sending the sick child a glance intended for the adult lurking inside that small form. "Ne?"

Conan returned the glance with an equal amount of suspicion. "Un!" He agreed.

"Stay still, Conan-kun," Ran smiled, coming around the couch and sitting on the edge near his feet. She shook a thermometer in her hands. "I have to take your temperature." She held the thermometer above his face as she leaned down close, a bright smile curving across her lovely countenance. "Say 'aaah!'"

Conan obliged to her motherly actions and allowed her to slip the device beneath his tongue, resisting the red that threatened to color his cheeks. No matter how well Shinichi pretended to be a first-grader, the shrunken sleuth couldn't pretend that Ran's closeness didn't stir his insides.

"Have you seen the news?" Sera asked, loitering around the agency as she took a stab at conversation. Perhaps she noticed the most recent newspaper on Kogoro's desk. Currently, Mouri Kogoro was out on a case, tailing a woman's husband under the suspicion of adultery. "They found the eleventh detective out in Egypt."

"I heard!" Sonoko commented, ever the gossiper. "It's too bad; I saw his school picture on the news. Why do all the hot guys have to die young? I totally would have dated him."

_Heh heh heh… _Conan chuckled inwardly.

"Sonoko!" Ran chided, sitting up. "What about Makoto-san?"

A guilty look flashed through Sonoko's eyes. "He's still away for some big karate tournament, so what's to stop me from checking out the eye candy while I'm awaiting my knight's return?"

Ran pursed her lips, but didn't pursue the subject. Instead, she admitted, "I'm a bit nervous. All these detectives going missing, and turning up dead in foreign countries? It all seems a bit scary, doesn't it?"

"Worried about your husband?" Sonoko teased, nudging her friend slyly.

"Mou, Sonoko!"

"You don't have to worry about Kudo-kun," Sera said, flipping through the newspaper absently, her feet lazily crossed atop the desk. "He's been gone, what, five, six months? If he was mixed up in this, he'd have been found dead by now."

_Of course I'm not mixed up in that, _Conan thought grudgingly. _I'm right here._

"He does say he's mixed up in a big case, though, and can't come home." Ran countered, removing the thermometer from Conan's mouth and checking the screen, though her eyes seemed to be looking right through it and focusing on something none of the others could see. Conan watched sadly.

"Don't worry," Sonoko consoled her worried friend. "Shinichi-kun will always come back to his wife! That guy won't let his woman be leered at by other men!"

To this statement, Ran strongly oppressed, with Conan turning a bit redder, and hoping that it would be misinterpreted as a sign of his fever.

At that precise moment, a knock interrupted Sonoko's teasing, and Ran opened the door to reveal the four small forms of Conan's friends, Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko, and Haibara. The three aforementioned were grinning wildly, asking over each other if they could visit Conan until their voices sounded like simple gibberish. The other girl, Haibara, simply crossed her arms as the corners of her mouth tweaked up in a sort of half-smile, amused by the Detective Boys' antics.

Ran smiled brightly and opened the door wider, allowing the first graders passage into the Detective Agency. Conan propped himself up on a mountain of pillows as the children filed into the room.

"Conan-kun!" Ayumi greeted cheerfully, putting a folder on the couch at the shrunken detective's feet. "I brought your homework! There's the worksheet on telling time and we got to color in a clock!"

_But I know how to tell time, _the Shinichi side of the faux child whined inwardly. "Thanks, Ayumi," Conan said, taking the folder and flipping through the four worksheets with the enthusiasm of a rock.

"Hey, Conan-kun," Mitsuhiko grinned. "When you get better, there's a girl in our class who says she wants us to find her cat!"

"Nothing's too hard for the Shounen Tantei!" Genta cried enthusiastically, earning a "Yeah!" from the freckled boy and cute girl. Haibara let out a light-hearted chuckle as she stood by the couch near Conan's head.

The Detective Boys hung out at the Agency for most of the afternoon, comparing notes and talking about the latest episode of Kamen Yaiba before finally departing for their own homes just as Ran was making dinner. Genta was disappointed to discover she was not cooking eel rice, and this fueled him to depart faster, Mitsuhiko and Ayumi on his heels. Haibara stayed behind long enough to whisper to Conan, "Call Hakase's house later," before herself leaving for home.

Conan blinked, surprised at her comment, but silently nodded. The fellow APTX 4869 victim rarely called on him, and when she did it was never a good sign. Did she have a clue leading to the Black Organization? But she wouldn't tell him that, because she knew he would immediately go after them. So what could it be?

Could it have something to do with the missing high school detectives? That girl always knew more than what she let on, deciding until the last possible minute to tell him. His mentally berated himself. No, she probably wanted to torment him, teasing him by waving the newest APTX 4869 antidote in front of his face and deny him when he practically begged her for it. Knowing her, that's probably what it was.

Sonoko and Sera were invited to dinner, but both refused, the former sayings she had some last minute shopping to do for a party she was being forced to attend, and the latter muttered something about procrastinating on a term paper. They stayed for a few extra minutes to finish consoling Ran on Shinichi's safety before finally taking their leave.

_Finally, _Conan couldn't help but think as the door swung shut behind them.

As Ran was putting the final touches on the meal, the door opened once again to reveal the slouched form of Mouri Kogoro, just returning from his stalking mission. The tall detective was panting like an out-of-breath dog, his black hair disheveled, a dead cigarette dangling from his lips. With a groan he flopped into his chair, discarding his hat and sunglasses listlessly to the floor.

"UGH," he grumbled tiredly. "That man sure knows how to bore a guy. Who stands randomly in the park for three hours!? Ran! Is dinner ready yet?"

"Almost." Ran yelled back. "I'm finishing Conan-kun's soup and then I'll start our _udon_."

"Why the brat first?" Kogoro whined, and lit a fresh cigarette.

"Because he's sick!"

"That's no excuse! I've been working my ass off on these disappearances, and I just got the file for Yakov Goldstein this morning! I'm supposed to look it over –" Kogoro stopped in the middle of his sentence, his eyes flying straight to the sick child cocooned in blankets on the couch. Conan had been listening with earnest to the older detective's rant with an almost hungry expression, which quickly morphed in a ditzy child-like grin the moment he and Kogoro's eyes met.

Kogoro knew Conan's ability to attract death wherever he goes, and while he'd admit that the kid was pretty smart, he also knew that he was in way over his head, and just by even _talking _about what the guys at the station were calling the "Missing High School Detectives" case would send the freeloader into a deducing frenzy. It was all his fault. His great detective awesomeness had rubbed off on the kid, and now he finally believed he could solve a case on his own. But he wouldn't let that brat anywhere near his case files.

"'Tou-san!" Ran chided, striding into the room and plopping a bowl of steaming soup on the table. "Stop staring at Conan-kun like that!"

"But Raaaaan…"

Conan tuned out most of the following conversation, mostly because it just didn't interest him. His mind was wired on the newest information: Kogoro had files to Yakov Goldstein's murder. Had the crime been different than the rest? What could be different about the Israeli detective's crime scene, or the body? A tingle of excitement raced down his spine. He shouldn't be excited about a global serial killing, but the anticipation of catching such an intense culprit was like a super adrenaline rush. He couldn't wait to get started.

But first…

"_Itadakimasu!" _Ran's soup was as delicious as always. The Detective Agency was lively with Kogoro's rants about the stalking mission, careful to avoid the topic of missing detectives, and Ran's insistence that he stop talking about people in such a rude way and eat his greens, while Conan reclined on the couch deep in thought.

He found it difficult that he could be having such a simple meal while somewhere in the world, perhaps not now but soon, another teen detective would fall victim to whatever the culprit was planning. He should be doing something, collaborating with the police to protect Japan's teens, getting a hold of those case files, anything! A case was right under his nose, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Finally, Kogoro retired to bed, and Ran quickly followed after tucking her surrogate little brother into bed. "_Oyasumi nasai, _Conan-kun," she smiled, and kissed him lightly on the forehead before turning the lights out and leaving the room, just missing the red that flooded the child's cheeks.

_Damn,_ Conan thought as he lay in the dark. _How does she do that to me?_

As Conan drifted between awake and asleep, he suddenly recalled Haibara's request that he phone the Professor. Even if all Haibara wanted to do was boast about her latest antidote, it wouldn't hurt to at least call and have a chat with the Professor. Talking to the old inventor was always a good way to get everything off his chest. Wincing a little as his headache pounded due to his sitting up too quickly, the miniature detective stood and pattered to the bathroom, pulling out his cell phone and dialing the professor's house.

"_Moshi moshi?"_ Came Agasa-hakase's voice after a few rings.

"Hakase, it's me," Conan said, his voice a bit rough.

"Ah, Shinichi!" The professor chortled cheerily. "How are you?"

"I have a cold," responded the child, his voice deadpanning. "I've been better."

"That's good."

Conan rolled his eyes. "What is it you wanted to talk about? Haibara said that I should call."

"Oh, right." Agasa's voice lost its cheerfulness and became sterner. "Shinichi… I don't want you to get too wrapped up in these disappearances."

Conan stared at his reflection in the mirror through half-lidded eyes. He should have known it would have been about this. The professor had always been his good friend and neighbor growing up, sometimes acting as his second father when his real one left for America with his mom. He would always appreciate the old man's actions, his precautions and his always looking out for his young neighbor, but sometimes it was downright overprotective.

"What makes you think I would be wrapped up in it?" Conan tried to defend himself.

"Because I know you," Agasa fired back. "I know that you can't resist a case like this, and…"

A second person entered the conversation. "Edogawa Conan may not be in danger," Haibara's voice said. "But Kudou Shinichi is. What Hakase is trying to say, Kudou-kun, is that while you may not be in direct danger, you have no idea what this culprit wants to achieve, and for all we know he may know your secret. And even if he doesn't, he can still raid the Kudou mansion and expect you to be there. And what happens when he finds Subaru-san instead? Keep your guard up and stay safe."

Conan blinked, then a sly smile quirked his lips. "Oh? What's this? Haibara-san is worried about me?"

"Baka!" Haibara snapped. "I just don't want to lose my test subject."

Conan snorted. "Okay, okay. I got it. I promise I won't do anything insanely crazy. And for the record, Subaru-san can take care of himself. If he's a Holmes fan, he should know some martial arts!"

"That's not the point!" Haibara tried to yell, but she was cut off by the professor.

"Thank you, Shinichi," Agasa said, and Conan detected a hint of doubtfulness in his tone, like he had an inkling that promise would be broken.

As Conan snuggled back under his comforter, and sleep began to overcome him, Haibara's words repeated in his mind. _Edogawa Conan may not be in danger, but Kudou Shinichi is._ Would the culprit really come after him? He certainly had a name for himself, making him a candidate, but would he go after such a big name, knowing the public outrage it would cause? Granted, he'd been gone for several months now so his real disappearance would go unnoticed for a few weeks until Ran got paranoid that he hadn't called, but still... would it be worth the risk?

Conan winced, his headache reminding him he still suffered a severe cold. His last thoughts before drifting into a dreamless sleep, consisted mostly of silent prayers to Kami-sama to keep his friends safe.

**As usual, thanks for reading, and 5 reviews get a new chapter! You know you want to click that small box right down there... ya know ya want to! :D**

**See ya next time! The story will start to pick up a bit now, so look forward to it!**

**Coming Up: Chapter 3 – In Which Yakov Leaves a Message**


	3. In Which Yakov Leaves a Message

**Oh, wow, thanks for the lovely reviews, guys! :D**

**This is where the story will start to pick up and codes will be released. Try to solve them if you feel you want to.**

**Guest Review Replies:**

**1412Renkonalu - **I don't think I've every seen anyone that excited before. It makes me happy, too. And I'll let you in on a spoiler; KID will play a role in the story, but he won't appear for another ten chapters by my estimate. I hope you're okay with that. :) Akako can just go pray to her Satan and be done with it, get a prophecy and stay outta my way. XP Thanks for the awesome review, and you can be, as you say "that good someday" if you really work for it. Read a lot, study grammar, and practice practice practice!

**Estelle - **Thank you so very much. I appreciate it. Thank you!

**Great - **I love my Voice. So much fun to narrate. :D Thanks so much, and keep checking back for updates!

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and if I missed it and didn't reply, then I thank you here! ... Thanks! I'm going to go eat a cookie now, so enjoy!**

Chapter 3 – In Which Yakov Leaves a Message

"_There is nothing like first-hand evidence."  
-Sherlock Holmes, __A Study in Scarlet_

It was the Saturday after Yakov's body had been discovered. As far as Conan could tell in those few days, there had been no reports on a missing detective from Egypt. Could his deduction that the next victim would be Egyptian be wrong? It made logical sense, seeing as the culprit had to be in Egypt to drop off the body, so while he was there, wouldn't he pick up a new victim?

Then again, most serial killers, even ones to this extent, weren't exactly logical. Their minds were warped with resentment and evil, only caring about their own problems and schemes and not caring who was caught in the crossfire. In the cases he'd solved involving serial killers, as Conan or as Shinichi, there was that exact same pattern. Willing to kill anyone who tries to interfere with their ultimate objective.

"Oi, brat," came Kogoro's rough voice across the table from him, and Conan lifted his chin from its nest in his short fingers to meet the older detective's stern gaze. He and Kogoro were having a meager dinner at Poirot's, the small restaurant directly below the Agency. Ran was spending the night with a friend from karate, and the two men of the house were left to their own devices. Luckily, Conan had recovered enough from his cold to leave the house, though Kogoro insisted he wear a mask.

"What?" Conan asked, annoyed at being interrupted in his thoughts.

"I don't trust you to be at the Agency alone," Kogoro started, giving Conan his best _listen-to-me-or-I'll-punch-you_ stare.

Conan raised an eyebrow, not quite following.

"I got a call from Megure-keibu," the private detective continued. "The information regarding that detective brat found in Egypt has finally been given to the Japanese police. I'm to head to the station after dinner. I'll have to bring you along with me." Kogoro must have seen the excitement, curiosity, and overwhelming intellectual fire burning in Conan's eyes, because the next words he spoke were some of the harshest the shrunken sleuth had ever heard the elder say. "You are _not _to interfere with the investigation, you'll stay outside the conference room so quiet it's like you're not even there."

Conan blinked, somehow expecting Oochan's remark and sternness, but yet it still caught him by surprise. Mouri Kogoro was not a man who came across as stern and commanding, more often defaulting to his goofy and drunk side. The false child managed to hide the grin beneath his bangs as he played innocent, staring down at his hands in his lap. "Yes, sir," he said, raising his voice an octave to add to the childish response, doing his best to look guiltily subordinate.

Kogoro seemed pleased with the answer and sat back as the food was delivered to the table. As the man delved into his meal with the fervor of a starving lion, he didn't notice Conan slowly removing his glasses and playing with the ear piece, twisting off the end and smiling at the tiny transceiver now laying in his palm.

_Oh, Oochan, _Conan thought deviously. _I'll be quiet. Because if I'm not, then I won't be able to hear what is being said._

.o0o.

"Ah, Mouri-san," Megure's voice floated through the earpiece. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Glad to be here, Inspector," Kogoro's voice responded, accompanied by the click of a lighter.

Conan sat in the waiting chairs just outside the double doors leading into the conference room at police headquarters, one hand pressed against the right side of his face casually, but in actuality fondling the small piece of equipment in his ear. He silently praised himself in his wonderfully-executed childish tumble from the top of a table, managing to slip the transmitter beneath Kogoro's collar in the process. Naturally, he had gotten a nice lump on his head for using the table as a jungle gym, but to Conan it was worth the pain.

Next to him sat Officer Yumi, instructed by Kogoro to "keep an eye on the four-eyed brat so he doesn't do anything stupid." She didn't seem committed to her task, however, drinking her canned coffee and loudly wishing she could be in on the investigation, too. Conan tuned her out and focused more on the conversation.

"Here, Mouri-san," came the even tone of Satou-keiji. "This is the file on Goldstein-kun. Takagi-kun, can you get the evidence files?"

"H-hai!" Takagi-keiji's harried voice answered.

There was the sound of rustling paper. "Yakov Goldstein," Kogoro read aloud to himself. "Eighteen. Born in Tel Aviv, Israel, died in Cairo, Egypt, one shot to the heart. Top student, ace detective… over one hundred solved cases through the country, half of those in Tel Aviv alone. Parents Daniel Goldstein and Miriam Goldstein…" The rest of the information was lost due to Kogoro's completion of the file in his head. Conan figured he could wheedle the rest of it from Takagi-keiji later. "Why is there no picture of the body?"

"That's in the evidence file," Shiratori-keiji's voice explained. "Takagi…"

"Yes, here, here."

Conan couldn't help but smile to himself. In weeks passed, Shiratori would have teased at Takagi-keiji for being a bit clumsy and hurried, but since he had found his childhood love, he seemed more at ease around his ex-love rival. But Conan doubted that the inspectors would be teasing each other around a discussion like this.

"Please sit, Mouri-san," instructed the deep vocals of the Super Intendant, Matsumoto. "Everyone else, too."

Several chairs were scraped against a hardwood floor.

"Now, Megure-keibu," the Super Intendant said. "Please explain to the detectives what information you received from the British task force. This information has been passed from several global police officials already, so please be thorough."

"Yes, sir," Megure said, and by the sound of a light grunt, he appeared to be standing now and pacing the room. "Yakov Goldstein, eighteen, found 9:37 pm Cairo time on Tuesday, February 8th. by Gyasi and Habiba Ricori in Al Azhar Park. The body was without wear save for his pants." There was a pause, and Conan assumed photos were being distributed. Kogoro made a strange sound from the back of his throat. "It was severely mutilated with several cuts and bruises, prominent around the face, wrists and ankles, suggesting he was tied with rope during captivity. There were no traces of cloth in his mouth, suggesting he was not gagged. Killed by a single gunshot wound to the heart; the bullet was still lodged in his heart and was identified during autopsy as belonging to a .44 Magnum handgun. There are no suspects."

"He was tied but not gagged?" Takagi echoed cautiously. "If I were kidnapping someone, I would gag them."

"These _are _high school detectives, Takagi-kun," Satou pointed out. "It's reasonable to assume they're being forced to solve some sort of puzzle or case. If they fail, they die."

Conan nodded. That was the conclusion he had come to a while ago, and was glad someone else shared the same deduction.

"Must be a tough case," Kogoro said. "Of course, there's no way I couldn't solve it!"

"Mouri-san, this is no time for your big head," Shiratori cut in smoothly, earning a grumble from the deflated private eye. "The culprit hasn't kidnapped anyone over nineteen, so you're automatically excluded from this guy's list as possible candidate. Besides, we need to focus on finding a suspect. We can't do anything until we at least have some suspicions."

"There was no one around at the time and no prints to suggest shoe size or model," Megure clarified. "The crime scene was completely bare."

"This is an impossible crime," Another voice cut in, one Conan wasn't quite familiar with. Must be another officer entrusted with the case. "How are we supposed to act on a case that happened thousands of miles away? We shouldn't focus on there, but rather on protecting Japan's teens!"

"You know, he has a point," Takagi said. "We can't properly analyze the situation since we can't be at the scene of the crime directly. We should try to contact Kudou-kun, or Conan-kun's friend Hattori-kun. Get them up to speed and try to help, at the same time making sure they stay safe."

"The problem is," Kogoro added. "Is that detective otaku has been missing the past five months. He calls Ran sometimes and makes an appearance or two, but I haven't seen him since London. At least Ran hasn't, I didn't see him personally. But for all we know he's still there. As for Hattori, he's all the way in Osaka, and what's more he's the son of Hattori Heizo. There's no where safer for him to be."

.o0o.

Somewhere in Osaka, Hattori Heiji sneezed.

"What's wrong, Heiji?" said a worried Toyama Kazuha beside him. "Yer not comin' down with a cold, are ya?"

"Nah," Heiji dismissed. "Probably jus' somthin' in da air."

.o0o.

"Takagi-kun does have a point, though," Satou said, standing up for her fellow detective. "We should at least call Kudou-kun and try to put him under police surveillance."

"You know he won't like that."

"But it's for his own good! Kudou Shinichi is the best damn detective prodigy I've seen, probably since his father was asked to join the task force twenty years ago, and I'll be damned if we lose him to some sick serial killer!" The unidentified officer from before shouted. "Where the hell would we find another Kudou!?"

Conan's mouth pulled into a frown, a hand instinctively reaching for his elder counterpart's mobile. _If they call Shinichi now…_

"We need to get back on track," Matsumoto interrupted, and Conan breathed freely. "We'll discuss the matters of Japan's teenage detectives after Megure-keibu finishes. Please, continue."

"Ahem," Megure coughed, and the commotion quieted. "We haven't had much information on the past murder victims, but this time we are getting a full report. Why? We have been asked to help decipher a code."

"A code?" Kogoro asked.

"Yes," Megure said. "It appears Goldstein-kun knew he was going to die, and with his quick thinking probably saved us all."

"Does that mean?" Satou questioned intensely.

"Yes," the Inspector confirmed. "Goldstein-kun left us a dying message."

There was a collection of gasps and whispers among the men and women inside the chamber, and Matsumoto had to call them to order again to allow Megure to continue. "This is the message."

Papers were passed out again, and Conan prayed someone would commentate. Luckily, Takagi-keiji pulled through.

"This is weird," the young detective said. "On his left hand his pinkie finger is extended, the ring finger is curled in, the middle and index are sticking out, and the thumb is tucked in." As Takagi spoke, Conan mimicked the description with his own fingers for a better visual. "And the right hand has only the thumb curled in."

"Do they form some kind of shape?" Kogoro wondered aloud, and Conan imagined him lifting the photo and turning it in circles to find a decent form. "AH! I got it, Inspector!"

"What, no way!"

"As expected from Sleeping Kogoro!"

"Ahem," Kogoro cleared his throat authoritatively. "Allow me to explain. Goldstein-kun knew he was going to die, so prior to his death he arranged his fingers in such a way that they would stick like that once rigor mortis set in. Unfortunately for him, he was killed before he could lift the ring finger on his left hand. He was trying to make four fingers on each hand and bring them together to make a butterfly shadow puppet!"

Conan's eyes fell to a half-lidded position. It was only half right, from what the teen-turned-child could gather. Goldstein probably did arrange his fingers prior to death counting on rigor mortis, the stiffening of the body, to preserve the message. But the rest of the reasoning was jacked up nonsense.

A brief chatter while the officers discussed Kogoro's deduction. Finally, it was Shiratori who spoke.

"Mouri-san," the Inspector stated. "I don't think that's right. See, when I hold my hands up like this, all I have to do is curl my thumbs over my palm. I have no need to move one finger at a time."

"Maybe his fists were clenched prior to death!" Kogoro defended.

"I think Shiratori-kun is right," Satou agreed. "Even if my fists were clenched like this, I would just move them at the same time. I think Goldstein-kun intentionally kept his ring finger down like that. It's part of the message."

"Fine then," Kogoro huffed, his "brilliant" deduction shot down in burning flames, and his ego deflated dramatically. "What're _your _thoughts?"

Conan wasn't sure who Kogoro was addressing, and waited with baited breath.

"I think these are numbers," Shiratori said. "Look, the pinky is a one. The curled ring finger indicates a space, meaning a new number. Which makes the middle and index fingers…"

"Two…" Takagi finished. "And the right hand must be a four!"

"One, two, four…" Satou mumbled. "What could it mean?"

Conan sat back in the chair, not noticing if Yumi was still beside him or not. By habit, his hand came up to his face, fingers curling around the chin. His eyes burned behind the glasses, his mind racing several miles an hour. _Yes,_ he thought. _What could it mean?_

The conference lasted another hour while the detectives tried to solve Yakov's message. They got nowhere, and only one or two other possible solutions were thrown on the table. None of them made sense, and this beat down on the officers' morale until Matsumoto finally called it a night.

Conan was growing exhausted himself and had turned off the transmitter about twenty minutes ago; stupid child body getting tired at random moments! It was nigh on midnight now, and they'd arrived at nine thirty. Yumi had exchanged places with the officer with a huge crush on Chiba-keiji, Miike-san, and she was just about passed out in the chair next to him, breathing softly. Her sleep was contagious, and Conan yawned broadly as the conference doors opened and the inspectors filed out of the room, stretching and chatting absentmindedly.

Through sleepy eyes, Conan watched as Takagi offered to drive Satou home, Shiratori pulled out his cell phone, no doubt to call Kobayashi-sensei. Matsumoto departed the room with a few other detectives, a thick manila folder in his large hands. Megure-keibu was muttering to himself, something about how a wife was gonna kill him for returning home so late. Kogoro exited directly after the Inspector, looking like he needed a beer. The private eye grabbed Conan's arm without a word and began pulling him in the direction of the elevator.

"How'd it go?" Conan yawned.

"None of your business," Kogoro snapped, and dragged the freeloader into the elevator. Conan knew how the old man got when he was sleep-and-beer-deprived, so the faux child let the subject drop. He knew what had happened, anyway. Even with what he'd overheard, however, Conan was no closer to solving Goldstein's dying message than the other detectives.

Kogoro passed out on the bed the moment they entered the bedroom, his snores rattling the window. Conan wrinkled his nose and opted for the couch in the living room instead, but not before retrieving the transmitter from the collar of Kogoro's discarded jacket. He lay in the dark, only the lights from the street partially illuminating what was only his temporary home. He raised his hands above his face and curled his left ring finger and both thumbs.

_Tell me,_ Conan thought. _Goldstein-san… what were you trying to say?_

**Well, it's Goldsein's message! A lot of painful thinking went into that. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm actually very proud of it. :D**

**For those who don't know, it's a thing where if you sneeze randomly, someone must be talking about you. It's like America, your ears burn or something. That's why that Heiji short was in there. It just kinda put itself there.**

**5 reviews get the new chapter! WARNING: Bad Osakan accent coming up.**

**Next Conan's Hint: **English!

**Coming Up: Chapter 4 – In Which a Letter Arrives for Heiji**


	4. In Which Heiji Receives a Letter

**Wow… gotta say I'm a bit iffy about this chapter, but it's enough to say the least. I have what I need, and if I can stop sobbing over my homework, that would be wonderful.**

**As a side note, does anyone watch Attack on Titan? I just finished the current episodes and just… just… I can't cry at all anymore. Am I the only one who feels this way? Probably.**

**Anyone read the new Heroes of Olympus book, House of Hades? I'm just addicted to the book, and can't put it down, even though I also have to read this 800-page book about Alexander Hamilton for AP Gov and Dracula for English… I think my eyes may fall out of my head if I have to keep staring at such tiny letters!**

**Does anyone even read these authors' notes, anyway? Bingle bongle dingle dangle yickity doo, yickity da, ping pong lippy tappy too taah.**

**Guest Review Corner:**

**1412RenkoNalu – **As for best fanfic ever, there are plenty who are definitely better at writing than I am. Take _Sandman _for example. _THAT _is a good fanfiction. Terrifying, yes, but freaking amazing. I'd like to give you a hint, I really would, but that would kinda screw the whole thing up, wouldn't it? As usual, thanks again for your review!

**Great (Guest) – **I was sneezing all through first period yesterday, and I come home to find my dad had been talking about me to some of his clients that morning. *leTheIncredibles* Coincidence? I THINK NOT. And as for this random officer… *leRiverSong Spoilers! Lol, thanks for the review!

**Estelle – **Is this fast enough!? I'm writing as my little fingers will allow!

Chapter 4 – In Which a Letter Arrives for Heiji

"_The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning."  
- Sherlock Holmes, __The Sign of Four_

If Heiji had known what would happen to him today, he would've stayed in bed. He wouldn't have ignored the protests of his pillow's warm bosom, the welcoming embrace of the covers, and the way his body folded perfectly into the memory foam. He would have slept everything away, and maybe the nightmare would go away.

But nope. He had gotten out of bed. He had gone to school. He'd walked home with Kazuha, as per the norm, but now that he thought about it, if he _hadn't _gone to school, if he _had _stayed in bed, would it have changed anything? Would the crumpled piece of paper in his hand cease to exist? He doubted it.

His mind doubled back as his eyes stared straight ahead into the looming darkness of his bedroom, but he didn't sleep. He didn't curl up on the mattress. He situated himself in the swivel chair at his desk, knees pulled up to his chest and his chin resting there lightly, an adaption of a pose he'd picked up from the chibi Tokyoite. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to quell the frantic beating of his heart.

His memory clouded his vision until he could almost see the ghost of himself that morning, loudly complaining about having to go to school as he dressed and bolted out the door.

"_Kazuha! Ahou, don' go wakin' me up so early!"_

"_Ahou! We're gonna be late again if ya don't get yer ass in gear!"_

Heiji's lips quirked. Kazuha had been angry with him for oversleeping again. It hadn't necessarily been his fault. He'd had a tournament the previous day, and had lasted well into the night. The dark-skinned teen would have given anything to get beaten and bruised as he did then in exchange for the annihilation of the paper in his sweating hand. Thankfully, it was a Friday, and he could stay up as long as he needed, wallowing in self-misery and trying to figure out what the hell to do.

Heiji berated himself. He shouldn't be scared. There was no way he would back down. There was no way he could. But the Great Detective of the West couldn't deny the paramount fear and worried tingles arcing through his body in great loops.

Heiji closed his eyes and heaved another deep breath.

**Four Hours Earlier**

"HEIJI, AHOU!"

"O-oi, Kazuha…! Cut me some slack, would ya?"

"I most certainly will not! This is the eighth time ya've missed yer hair cut appointment, and yer mum is spitting fire! It's MY job to get ya there!"

Kazuha took a swing at Heiji's shoulder with her school bag, all the force of her aikido training going into the hit. Her brunette ponytail whipped around her face, and her eyes seemed to leave a burning trail in the air as she turned, the ferocity practically leaking from them.

Thankfully, Heiji was no amateur to training himself. His kendo reflexes jerked into motion, and he turned at just the right angle, leaning back slightly so the bag went sailing over his head. Before Kazuha could recover, Heiji had already taken off down the street with all the speed of a cheetah, his childhood friend screaming after him.

The Osakan detective laughed despite his near-death experience via Kazuha, and Kazuha herself couldn't help but giggle as well as she chased him down the street, the passerby not even caring anymore. They had probably grown used to the teenagers chasing one another along the sidewalk, and had developed subconscious maneuvers to avoid them. Whatever the case, Heiji and Kazuha came across no obstacles until Heiji's home finally came into view amongst the neighboring houses.

"You… ahou…" Kazuha panted, doubled over and clutching a stich in her side. They stood on the front step to the Hattori household, both out of breath.

Heiji's school uniform was soaked in sweat from his dead sprint, and he shrugged the black jacket from his shoulders, leaving him in only a white undershirt. Luckily, he too had doubled over, and missed the red that had colored his childhood friend's cheeks. "It's yer fault…" he expressed, not usually one to be so out of breath. "Ya shouldn't… have… tried ta… kill me!"

"Ahou! Ya shouldn't have been so stupid! If you'd just gone to yer hair appointment like ya wer supposed ta, I wouldn't have _had _ta kill ya!"

Heiji was too exhausted to answer. His chest rose and fell heavily as he dug his keys from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, pushing the door open to reveal the small, comfortable foyer. "Grab somethin' from tha fridge if yar hungry," the tanned detective said, slipping his shoes off. "I'm gonna go change."

"Wait a sec, Heiji," Kazuha said, her tone causing said boy to turn. She was staring at something near his feet, head cocked slightly to the side. "There's a letter on tha floor."

He followed her gaze. Sure enough, a crisp white envelope was lying between his feet, about to be stepped on. The mail didn't seem to be very threatening, and as Heiji knelt to pick it up, he noticed his name typed in neat black characters.

"They don't wanna take the time to write my name?" The teen detective muttered. "Using a computer. Whatta guy."

"Think it's a case request?" Kazuha asked, staring at the mail over Heiji's shoulder.

"Probably," Heiji sighed, stepping onto the hardwood floor of his house and making his way toward his bedroom. "Make yerself at home, start homework or something. I'll take a look at this and be right down."

"Sure."

They parted ways, Kazuha for the kitchen and Heiji for his room. He didn't want to admit it, but something threw him for a loop. There was just something about this envelope that didn't bode well for him. He couldn't place the feeling; he wanted to say _foreboding, _but that wasn't it. It was more like that rumbling in your gut when you walk down a dark alley, and there's always that chance someone's waiting there to mug you.

Should he call Kudo, see if he got one? Nah, his Toyko counterpart would probably laugh at him for getting worried over a stupid white envelope. Besides, knowing Kudo, he was probably working his butt off trying to wrap his mind around these missing high school detectives. Heiji himself admitted himself worried, but unlike Kudo, the dark-skinned teen had self-defense training, and was confident he could take care of himself, if it came down to it, that is. Then again, the chibi had his superpower tech gadgets. Heiji grumbled, a bit jealous of the teen-turned-child. As much as he loved the Tokyoite (as a friend, ahou! Not like that!), the Osakan was bound and _determined _to one day prove the West was better than the East, and calling to see if he got a stupid letter was not the way to do it.

He threw his bag on the bed, tugging off his school pants and replacing them with a light pair of jeans. He replaced his sweaty undershirt with a Wimbledon T-shirt Kudo had brought back for him from London. All the while, the white envelope stared ominously at him from where he had placed it on his desk.

Not able to put it off any longer, Heiji reclined in his swivel chair and began to break the letter's seal.

There was only one small piece of paper within, also white with typed black characters. Before he'd even read the first line, Heiji's eyes narrowed, and he immediately went into full-blown guard mode. He quietly pulled a dictionary from the shelf. An English-Japanese dictionary.

The first paragraph of the letter was typed in English, and was written in verse, centered on the page. It had been a while since Heiji had utilized his English lessons, but he was still fairly good at it.

Before he had even read the first line, his mind was on overdrive. _Why use English? The client should be Japanese, right? Why bother with all the trouble? _Maybe the language had something to do with the case? Heiji chewed his bottom lip and read.

_Look up, down, left, and right.  
Fight, fight, with all your might.  
__Eleven soldiers marched to war,  
__Ne'er to return forevermore.  
__The next man to take their place,  
__Takes his stance at Hell's black gates.  
__The silence hurts him, but the bullets hurt more,  
__As he packed his bags and marched to war._

Heiji did not like the sound of it, and his mind automatically began to decipher the easy poem, whether the low difficulty level was intentional or not. His eyes skimmed the words, a deep feeling penetrating his chest. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and he had been wrong when he thought he had nothing left to sweat out. His skin grew clammy, and he suddenly felt as if he had a _very _good reason to empty the contents of his stomach.

Heiji swallowed thickly. This was no time to vomit. But he still felt a bit sick with the _faintest _twinge of fear.

The next paragraph was written in Japanese, so he had no trouble reading it.

_You are, of course, already aware of what this letter indicates, if your reputation as a great  
detective is as it seems. If you are willing to accept the challenge that so many  
have failed, then be on the Bullet Train to Tokyo Station at noon in 5 days time.  
Failure to do so will result in the immediate annihilation of…_

A sound Heiji had no idea he could make escaped his throat, a deep guttural noise that scared him. His natural fear quickly changed into a mixture of anger and sadness, a lump forming in his throat as pressure rose behind his eyes. The paper in his hand began to shake, and he had to set it down so he could keep reading it.

_You may say goodbye to one person, and one person only.  
Any more, and consequences will be severe._

There was no signature.

Heiji didn't notice his hands had tangled in his hair until a sharp pain indicated his fingernails had pinched his scalp. Still, the pain was less severe than having to read the contents of the summoning notice. And worse still, the name at the end… It didn't matter if he accepted the challenge or not. He wouldn't let that person die.

"Heiji!" Kazuha's voice penetrated his closed door. "How long does it take to change clothes!? I got some snacks out here, and they're gettin' cold!"

Heiji shook his head to clear his mind, quickly stuffing the letter into the top drawer of his desk. "AHOU!" He yelled back, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I'll take however long I please!"

"If ya don't get down here in da next ten seconds, I'm gonna eat the rest of the crackers!"

"Don't ya dare!" Heiji yanked open the door, doing his best to maintain composure, and from the initial looks of it, Kazuha didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. He became certain when she whacked him on the head with her Calculus textbook. But when his reaction time was delayed, and he didn't immediately call her an "ahou" and hit her back, he noticed a glint of confusion in her penetrating green eyes.

Heiji knew he was secluded for the remainder of the day, not speaking much and barely touching his dinner. His mother – and Kazuha – both reprimanded him for it, but he blamed it on nerves for an upcoming midterm at school and left it at that. The women, however, were not satisfied with this, and continued to pester him on his strange behavior before Hattori Heizo graciously cut in, allowing his son time to himself.

Kazuha had left soon after, and Heiji had retired to his chambers. That was where he found himself, sitting in the dark of his own bedroom, the crumpled letter once again in his clenched hands. So far no one had disturbed him since he excused himself from the table, and for that he was grateful.

He uncrumpled the paper, smoothing out the creases as best he could.

_You are, of course, already aware of what this letter indicates, if your reputation as a great  
detective is as it seems. If you are willing to accept the challenge that so many  
have failed, be on the Bullet Train to Tokyo Station at noon in 5 days time.  
Failure to do so will result in the immediate annihilation of…_

That sound came again, the growl of anger from the back of his throat. How dare this person threaten him like that!? And what was worse, where the name was written – or rather pasted with newspaper cutouts – there was a blank underlined space, indicating the author simply had to fill in the appropriate name. That made him mad.

Heiji shifted, and a moonbeam filtering through his window finally barged past the barrier that had been his shoulder, streaming out to the paper and making it appear to glow, illuminating the name pasted there.

_Failure to do will result in the immediate annihilation of…_

_**Toyama Kazuha.**_

Just looking at those characters made Heiji's heart crawl up the back of his throat. The bullets mentioned in the English poem could have referred to himself - they would kill him if he refused or failed, but looking deeper, the line also threatened Kazuha herself, to shoot not only him but _her _as well. Heiji grit his teeth. Dragging in innocent civilians. This guy was the lowest of the low.

And _Kazuha _of all people! A terrifying image of the ponytailed girl lying on the sidewalk dressed in her school uniform, the cloth stained red, a pool of blood forming around her body as her lifeless eyes stared at an endless crack in the brick wall. Her last words, merely a breath on her lips…

Heiji shook his head roughly. No… he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He had to keep thinking straight, sort this through, and figure something out.

_You may say goodbye to one person, and one person only.  
Any more and there will be consequences._

Heiji frowned. How would they now if he contacted more than one person? It's not as though they had - He mentally slapped himself. Something as intricately designed as this, on such a global scale, of course the culprit would have thought things through. His phone may be wiretapped; he _had _accidentally left it in that public bathroom a week ago. The landline could be tapped, too, and for all he knew, there were cameras watching him right now.

Or was he getting too paranoid? Heiji couldn't deny the fear deep in his chest; anyone would be terrified if they knew they were next on the hit list for a worldwide serial murder case. He hadn't said much to Kudo on the subject of the missing detectives, mostly because whenever he tried, the guy cut him off with some excuse. Heiji didn't blame him; he was probably doing his own personal investigations, and while he knew Heiji could be of help, he didn't want to risk his friend getting involved.

Well, Heiji was sure as hell involved now.

The only consolation the tanned Osakan got from this notice was that it hadn't been Kudo. Things would have gotten really bad if the MIA Kudo Shinichi had been selected instead of him.

_Kudo. Goodbye. Detective. Message._

Heiji reached for his cell phone.

.o0o.

_Ring, ring!_

"Ah, Conan-kun?" Ran called from the kitchen. Said child looked up from where he sat in front of the television, once again unsuccessfully trying his hand at video games. He had a distant hope something in the game would add that final spark to the puzzle, and help him break through Yakov Goldstein's dying message. It was a slim chance, but Conan was getting desperate now. And of course, nothing was coming to mind. The shrunken sleuth wanted to scream with frustration.

"Hai?" He called back, pausing the game.

"Can you get my cell phone out of my purse please?" She asked. "I'm almost done with dinner but I can't leave the pan."

"Sure, Ran-neechan!" Conan stood up and padded to Ran's handbag on the coffee table. When he finally located the vibrating device, he noticed Kazuha-neechan's Caller ID light up the screen. The chibi had expected it to be Sonoko. Hattori's not-girlfriend only truly called when it was about her not-boyfriend.

"Here, Ran-neechan," Conan said, pressing the phone into the older girl's outstretched hand.

"Thanks, Conan-kun," Ran said, and flipped open the phone, holding it between her ear and shoulder as she continued to poke at what smelled like tempura. "_Moshi moshi? _Ah, Kazuha-chan?"

Conan grew immediately disinterested and began to walk back into the living room. Not ten seconds later, a clatter like splintering wood from behind him caused him to whip around in panic. "Ra—!"

Ran stood still as a statue, not seeming to notice the blackening tempura. The spoon she had been using lay on the tiled floor of the kitchen, having just fallen from Ran's limp fingers. Ran herself looked like she'd seen a ghost, her fingers shaking and a worried look trespassing on her features. Slowly, she raised a hand to grasp the phone. "Kazuha-chan… really?"

Conan could immediately tell something was wrong. What little garbled speech he could hear from the conversation, he caught "_No note… empty… motorcycle… ticket… Heiji…"_

Conan raised an eyebrow. Hattori? What had that idiot done now? Got into an accident or something? He reached for his own cellphone to call the fellow detective and tell him off when he spotted something shiny escape Ran's eye, sliding down her cheek.

"Ran… nee-chan…" Conan ventured cautiously, upping the childish tone a bit. "What's the matter?"

Ran looked down at him, and Conan's heart immediately began hammering inside his chest. The look in her eyes was glazed, emotions like horror, panic, and empathy reflecting in her normally cheerful orbs. Conan even detected the barest trace of relief, but it was reluctant, like Ran felt bad about being relieved. Conan had no idea what could have gotten his childhood friend so riled up until the next words she uttered made his blood run cold. "Kazuha-chan says Hattori-kun is missing," she said, voice heavy. "He has been for the past two days."

***Runs upstairs and barricades the door with anti-fandom spray* No… stay away! I like my life! I swear I didn't mean it! Honest!**

**So umm… little bit of a time skip between the Osaka and Tokyo bit. About a week, maybe less, I'll let you decide. And uhm… well… Heiji's gone. Don't worry, I'll let you in on his side every once in a while.**

**Yeah. Try not to get too mad at me.**

**So, 5 reviews get the next chapter. Riiiight. Until next time…**

**Coming Up: Chapter 5 – In Which the Greek Eternally Sleeps**


	5. In Which the Greek Eternally Sleeps

**Sorry for the slight delay, guys. I had to crunch time my college stuff, and I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately… plus school work and I haven't been feeling so well, but now I present to you the next chapter. It took a full day before I felt that leaving the confines of my room (still armed with anti-fandom spray, just in case) was safe, and luckily I'm still around. Now I know how Rick Riordan feels. Kinda.**

**Anyway, this is a really long chapter, so it takes a while to read over for errors, so I may have missed some stuff in my read-over… I'll come back and fix them, but I wanted to go ahead and post for you guys. Enjoy!**

**Guest Review Corner:**

**1412Renkonalu – **Yes! Finally starting! I can't wait until everything really starts falling into place, that'll be fun! Speaking of Sandman, a new chapter was posted the other day. Have you read it!? Oh my gawd!

**Estelle – **It did come fast. I try to update once a week if my schedule allows it, also given if I have the minimum review count. Thanks for your review, and enjoy the chapter!

**James Birdsong – **thank you, I appreciate it. :D

**Great – **Phew! I like not being eliminated. Expect the unexpected, they say. But more of Heiji's story will come to light in time. As for that message, you MAY or MAY NOT find out what it is this chapter. That's a really good deduction; I won't say if you're right or wrong. But nice thinking. :D Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 5 – In Which the Greek Eternally Sleeps

"_Chance has put in our way a most whimsical  
problem, and its solution is its own reward."  
- Sherlock Holmes, __The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle_

Conan was in a daze the remainder of the week, not even registering the day-to-day activity around him. He sat and stared, blinked, stared some more. Hattori was gone. His one true link to the detective world, when he could really be _Shinichi _and not _Conan,_ the one who somehow made his chibification bearable… was gone. There was not one solid doubt in his mind that _They _were behind it.

That's who They were. The culprit – or culprits – behind these detective's disappearances. _They. Them._

It was _Their _fault. _They_ had taken Conan's one confident in the case and left him on his own. The mini detective cursed himself for not confiding in the Osakan more often. The little contact he'd had with the guy had been short, clipped, and unhelpful. He knew he sounded like an ignorant child when he refused Hattori's help, and now he was immensely regretting it.

What had led him to believe Hattori would be of little use? He had always worked so well with the dark-skinned teen, albeit the first two cases they did together, the _No Immunity for the Diplomat_ murder at which they had first met, and the Sherlock Holmes tour case at which Hattori had guessed his true identity. After that, though, Hattori was almost like the John Watson to his Sherlock Holmes.

Maybe all of Conan's successfully solved murder cases had started to go to his head… he thought he could handle it himself. Only now did he realize how much of a moron he was.

"Kudo-kun," said Haibara beside him, nudging the side of his head with the butt of her pencil. "I know you're worried about your Osakan friend, but you have to keep it together."

Conan turned his head, looking at the young scientist with dull eyes. "I'm nervous, Haibara," he admitted. "I don't know what to do. If I can't even protect my friends…"

She slapped him. Hard. His head jerked the left, the vacant look in his eyes dissipating with confusion. Slowly, he looked back to look at the girl, bringing a hand to his stinging cheek. The expression on her face was clearly one of disappointment, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a grim line.

"You," she said, poking him hard in the chest. "Are pathetic."

"W-what?"

"How do you expect to ever take down the Organization with an attitude like that?" she demanded. "You're going to let this setback stop you? What happened to the _'I'll take down the Black Organization and get my real body back if it's the last thing I do!' _attitude?" She mimicked.

"Taking down the Organization and these missing detectives are two different things!"

"No, they aren't!" Haibara said, quickly growing impatient. Her usual calm façade was breaking down at Conan's despondency. "They're identical. The culprits aren't the same, but the difficulty is. How are you supposed to take down this massive syndicate with influence all around the world and no regard for life at all if you can't track down an international serial murderer, who just so happens to have taken one of your friends hostage? What are you _ever _going to do? Just sit there and give up."

"No!" Conan said defiantly.

"Oh?" Haibara smirked. "'Cause that's what I hear. A pathetic child who lets everyone down, including the only _real_ person to whom you can relate as a fellow detective? You'll just let Hattori-kun down, and let him _die."_

"No!" Conan yelled this time, standing and glaring at the scientist. He knew she was just trying to inspire him, rile him up so he would stop being so pessimistic. He would normally not let this sort of thing get to him, but he had had about enough. "I'm not giving up! There's no possible way for me to let this kind of thing slide! I just have to think, that's all! I've lost a chess piece, but that doesn't mean I've lost the game!"

The corner of Haibara's mouth pulled into a half-smile. "And how do you plan to get that chess piece back?"

Conan's eyes narrowed. "By bringing the pawn to the other side of the board."

He grabbed his jacket and solar-powered skateboard and rushed out the door, taking off down the sidewalk. Haibara had been right; he'd been unfocused. Hattori was gone, there was no denying it. But there was also no denying the dark skinned teen's ability to protect himself, and there was hardly a match to his intellect. The latter didn't bring Conan's spirits up much, considering the other kidnapped detectives were prodigies as well, but the chibi didn't dwell on that.

He had to focus. Conan wasn't going to let himself be dragged down by this setback. Now he had to work faster, harder, and longer. If the pattern continues, then he had roughly a week and a half to find Hattori and solve the case. That wasn't nearly enough time for any normal person, but Conan… no, _Shinichi, _was motivated, his sense of justice unbounded, and unrelenting. He wasn't about to let one of his friends die.

Conan whipped around the corner on his skateboard, scaring a young couple walking their dogs. Just as the building of Police HQ was slowly coming into sight, a red sports car suddenly pulled up next to him, a female voice calling out, "Conan-kun!"

The child skidded to a stop, looking over into the concerned face of Satou-keiji, the beginnings of dark shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep. Takagi-keiji sat in the passenger seat, looking very much the same way. "Satou-keiji!" Conan exclaimed.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" The woman asked, stifling a yawn.

"To Police HQ," Conan said. "I'm worried about Heiji-niisan and want to know if anything else came up yet."

"We're heading that way," Takagi said tiredly. "Apparently something has happened regarding the missing detectives."

"Takagi-kun!" Satou chided. "You can't tell a kid that!"

"Sorry…"

"Anyway," she said, returning her gaze to the young boy. "I'll give you a ride. With you skateboarding so recklessly like that, someone could get hurt."

Conan obliged without a word, climbing into the back seat of Satou's sports car and buckling his seat belt. Satou tore off the curb and into traffic, nearly giving Takagi a heart attack. The officer weaved expertly in and out of traffic, giving Conan the impression that whatever "happened regarding the detectives" had to be _super _important. Was Heiji dead already? Had they found him before the culprit had done the deed? Was he suffering at the hospital at this very moment? The false child's heart palpitated beyond its normal capacity.

Upon arrival at Police HQ, Conan was the first one out of the car, followed quickly by his chauffeurs. He led the way through the doors, and Conan tried to follow Satou and Takagi up the elevators to the investigation room, but he was kindly pushed out and left on his own. He pouted for a minute before running for the stairs.

"Conan-kun!"

Said child looked around, hand still poised to turn the doorknob, to see Inspector Shiratori's tall form approaching him. The older man knelt to be at eye-level with the child. "What are you doing here?"

"Satou-keiji and Takagi-keiji gave me a ride," Conan explained. "I want to know if you've found Heiji-niisan yet."

A weak smile curled the Inspector's lips. He ruffled Conan's hair as he said, "Sorry, kid, we haven't. We have a search team doing all they can now. We're working with Osaka to find him, but I'm afraid Hattori Heizo-san is a bit… depressed… at the disappearance of his son and isn't at his best at the moment, so really it's just us."

"What have they found out?"

"Not much," Shiratori said. "From what his friend Toyama-san said, he said he had to come to Tokyo for something, but wouldn't say why. We've verified he was on the Bullet Train to Tokyo on the day of his disappearance; a ticket was bought under his name, and witnesses say they saw a dark-skinned teen board the train, confirmed by security footage. But no one saw him get off."

Conan nestled his chin in his fingers, his eyes narrowing. "Anything else?"

Shiratori hesitated, as if wondering why he would be sharing such information with a mere child. All he did was run around the murder scenes that just seemed to magnetize toward him and get in the way… but then again, Conan had been a good help on previous cases, had always given hints or pointed out important factors that had helped solve the case…

"Yes. His cell phone was found on the train, kicked under a chair."

Conan's eyes brightened considerably. A cell phone! "And who was the last person he called?"

Shiratori stared Conan dead in the eye. Once again the officer was consumed with a feeling that he could tell this seven-year-old anything; important adult stuff, even. Why? What about this kid just screamed _intelligence _and_ maturity?_

He opened his mouth and spoke a name. Conan's physical reaction was instant: his pupils dilated, and he actually shook from head to toe, the tremors making his bangs vibrate against his forehead. His hands tightened around his skateboard as if planning to ride off right that instant, but just as suddenly as it had occurred, his symptoms vanished, and the child heaved a deep breath. "Really?"

Shiratori nodded, puzzled, but didn't say anything about it. "Yes."

"Ne, Shiratori-keibu?"

"When I came here with Satou-keiji and Takagi-keiji, Takagi-keiji said something about something major happening with the missing detectives case…"

Shiratori's eyes narrowed and he muttered something like, "_Little twerp can't keep his mouth shut…"_

"It's nothing," the Inspector smiled, ruffling Conan's hair again and standing to his full height. "It's adult stuff. So go home and don't bother the investigation."

"But...!"

Conan was silenced with a look before the Inspector departed, heading for the elevator Satou and Takagi had taken earlier. Conan's eyes drooped to a half-lidded position, his bottom lip jutting out slightly as he silently fumed. How he _hated _being treated like a child (even if he did look like one). No one told a child _anything!_

Unwillingly resigning himself to this fact, Conan abandoned news on the missing detectives, confident it would air on television soon enough, and left the building, taking off down the sidewalk toward a certain western-style house, unused for a very long time.

Shiratori watched Conan leave, still wondering at how this child managed to have such an adult aura around him, like he had seen more warfare than a grizzled veteran had in a lifetime. But he was overthinking it, he decided, pressing the appropriate button for the First Division floor, where he had been summoned. Conan was just a child; he may think he's smart, but he was just like every other normal kid.

"Ah, Shiratori-kun," Megure said as the fellow Inspector approached. "Sorry to call on short notice."

"No problem, Keibu," Shiratori said, and the two men walked inside the conference room together. Already seated around the oval table was Satou and Takagi, looking harried as they discussed something quietly. Matsumoto was at the head, a deep frown curving his lips, the scar over his eye seeming more prominent than usual. A stack of files sat calmly on the desk in front of him. Takahashi was by the window, smoking his cigarette and running a weary hand through his unkempt black hair. He had only been assigned to this case in the past month, and Shiratori didn't blame him for looking so exhausted. The Inspector probably didn't look so good himself.

A few more officers wandered about, but Shiratori was occupied, seating himself near Matsumoto and weaving his fingers together as he waited for the conference to convene, wondering just what trivial event had occurred.

Finally, Matsumoto called everyone to sit, and when they did, he delivered the news.

"There was another teen detective found today," he said gravely. "Found in Nigeria."

Whispers. _The culprit has struck again. How many more until he's satisfied? What could he be planning? What about Hattori Heiji?_

"What information can you give us, Super Intendant?" Megure asked.

Matsumoto sighed heavily, unfolding the top file. "Abderus Buros, age seventeen. Found in Nigeria this morning Japan time around 8:37 am. Like the other victims, he was also killed with a single shot to the heart."

"What a horrible way to go, especially so young," A female officer whispered mournfully.

Shiratori had to agree, but he wouldn't speak this aloud. He couldn't let remorse get in the way of the investigation. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Any dying messages like Goldstein-kun?" Takagi asked hopefully.

Matsumoto shook his head. "No. Nothing."

It was expected, but it was still like a rusty knife in the back. Once again the killer had left the global police with virtually nothing. _How _could this guy get around so quickly? He'd taken Hattori-kun only a few days ago, and suddenly Buros-kun appears in Nigeria, almost half way across the world.

"Any information regarding Hattori Heiji?" Satou asked, and Shiratori could see in her eyes she was thinking about Conan. He'd studied the female detective long enough (under the presumption she was his first love, and old habits die hard) to know almost exactly what she was thinking.

"No useful information was found on his cell phone," Matsumoto informed her. "Hattori Heiji-kun's fingerprints were on it, of course, as well as Toyama-san's, but no one else's. There was one locked folder on it with a password, but the time it would take to hack it would be too long. No one knows the password, so it has been left alone for now, until deemed important to the case. It's not unusual for a teenager to lock things away. Hattori Heizo is still doing his best to help, but even the disappearance of his son can rattle any man, no matter how steeled."

"I see…"

"But, on the bright side," he continued. "We did discover something regarding Goldstein-kun's message."

The atmosphere in the conference room was suddenly on high alert as attention returned to the Super Intendant. Ten pairs of hungry eyes stared him down, waiting for their leader to continue. Matsumoto opened the second file on his desk, sliding it across the table for everyone to see. It was a photo of Goldstein's severely cut up feet.

"His feet?" Takagi said aloud.

"Notice anything?"

Shiratori stared hard. Five… ten… all the toes were there. Eight cuts, some still bleeding… chipped toenails… a broken pinky toe, curled unnaturally close to the ball of the foot…

"Ah!" Satou exclaimed, pointing at Goldstein's right pinky toe. "Look! It's curled in!"

"Just like his fingers," Shiratori murmured. "You think this is a continuation of Goldstein's dying message?"

Matsumoto nodded. "That's what the Israeli government believes. After closely examining the body once it was shipped home, the mortician discovered the similarity, and informed the United Nations and through them, us."

"So the message is now one, two, four, nine…" Megure said, the brim of his bright orange hat falling over his eyes as he lowered his head in thought. "I'll call Mouri-kun once we get out of here."

The officers sat back, once again attempting to decode the dying message.

"I warned you this would happen!" Takahashi muttered to himself as the other officers discussed around him, evidently still fuming about the loss of Hattori. "I told you we should protect Kudo-kun and Hattori-kun."

Shiratori narrowed his eyes at the man, putting his talk with Takagi on hold. He remembered his outburst at their last meeting, stating defiantly that they should focus on Japan's teens rather than the world's. This was no time to rub it in.

"At least we know Kudo-kun is safe," he said, a bit harsher than he meant, drawing the attention of Takahashi and the other detectives in the room. "So far the culprit hasn't taken two high school detectives from one country."

Takahashi's lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Megure interrupted.

"I keep trying to call Kudo-kun, ask for his help," the grizzled detective said. "But I can't reach him. Either he's kidnapped already and died too quickly for the culprit's liking, or he's doing his own investigation. I'll bet my money on the latter, and keep believing he's alive until he turns up dead."

"But how do we know he's alive if he won't pick up the phone?" Takahashi shot back. "What happened to the Kudo that wouldn't take his face off the front page, his name spoken by every freakin' reporter!?"

"I don't know," Megure said firmly. "But I _do _know that Kudo-kun probably has a good reason. I trust him, and when he is finally ready to share with the police what he knows, then I'll accept it."

Shiratori caught something like _"Arrogant bastard," _from Takahashi, but let it go. Tensions were high, and grew higher with every found detective. He didn't blame the recruit for his views, but did wish he could keep it to a minimum. Resigned, Shiratori looked through a window, out to the Tokyo city streets with civilians wandering aimlessly along the sidewalk.

Was Kudo down there, right now? Shiratori had never cared for the boy, not really appreciating the teen taking over the detective's jobs. They had to make a living, too. But still, he couldn't deny the teen's overall genius and intellectual capacity, which would make him a vital resource on this case.

_Kudo-kun, _Shiratori thought distractedly. _Answer the phone already._

.o0o.

Conan sneezed violently, nearly knocking him off his skateboard. "Crap," he muttered, stumbling to a stop to regain his balance. "I thought I'd gotten rid of that cold."

Back in position, the false child continued down the familiar streets, his memory following the path he used to take walking home from school after dropping Ran off at the Agency, back in his middle school and early high school days, as Shinichi. A sad look overcame his features as Conan reminisced, wishing for the umpteenth time he had never followed those men in black from Tropical Land.

As if to further add to his burden, a large mansion appeared from behind Agasa-hakase's home, its dark windows glaring ominously at its absent inhabitant as he approached. Spider webs had begun to accumulate between the iron bars of the front gate, adding to the haunted look. It creaked as he pushed it open, a soft wind rustling the leaves across the stone path leading to the front doors.

The inside seemed cold and lonely, thin layers of dust coating the furniture and floor. That's right… Ran hadn't held her monthly cleaning in a while. He still appreciated the effort she went through, and after London, he could clearly see why.

Conan removed his shoes and leaned his skateboard against the wall before lightly treading into his own home. The ceiling seemed taller than he remembered, farther away, the tables and chairs towering over him as if he were only a small, insignificant insect. The bookshelves with his beloved novels reached floor to ceiling, but now appeared to break through the roof itself, the books on the highest shelves appearing to fall atop him at any moment.

The light was blinking.

As Shinichi looked longingly at his own home through Conan's eyes, wishing to simply run to his own bedroom and fall lovingly on the mattress, the landline answering machine light flickered and drew his attention to the table on which the machine sat, where he knew a new message awaited him.

Conan approached the machine, pressing the appropriate buttons until the answering machine picked up.

"_Hello!" _The overly perfect female voice said. _"You have two new messages! First message:_

"_Shinichi…"_

Conan started as Ran's voice floated through the air. The tone, the way she simply said his name, his true name, was heart wrenching, full of loneliness and a sense of sadness, a sadness that only he could banish. Conan found himself stepping closer, as if the louder she spoke, more his discomfort would ease.

"_I know you probably won't get this message for a long time, but I just want to make sure you're okay." _Ran sniffled. _"The times you've answered your phone, it's been so hurried and quick, and I don't have the chance to really talk to you._

"_So… um… I hope you're okay. Please stay safe, keep out of trouble, and try not to let yourself get too caught up in whatever your doing so you forget to call." _She chuckled half-heartedly. _"I miss you, Shinichi. I'm sure you're really interested in these disappearing detectives, and you're probably talking to Hattori-kun about a lot of it, so there's no doubt in my mind that you two can solve it! So hurry up and solve it, you detective geek, and come back here._

"_Call soon."_

"_End of message."_

Conan released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He didn't register that the second message had begun until Heiji's booming Osakan vocals interrupted his thoughts.

"_Yo, Kudo!"_

Conan pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Now this was where the hard part began.

"_I called yer house 'cuz ya wasn't pickin' up yer cell. Why the hell is it so hard t'get a hold o' ya? Anyway, just thought I'd let'cha know I'm comin' over to Tokyo for da weekend! Thanks for the invite over; though I'm kinda disappointed ya didn't take the time to email instead of a snail mail note. C'mon, man, get wit da times! Anyway, I'm leavin' in five days. I won't be missed a' school for a couple of classes. I got some serious casework to talk ta ya about, regarding da Shiragami case with Okuda Makoto. So call when ya get da chance, and I'll see ya in a few days!_

"_End of message. You have no new messages."_

Conan played Heiji's message a few more times, listen to every word, intonation… anything. The message had been recorded a week and a half ago, the five days Hattori mentioning corresponded with his train ticked and disappearance. Coming to Tokyo to visit… that was obviously the destination he had intended.

But Conan had never sent Hattori a letter. Not even an email, really, they mostly communicated through phone calls. And why would he mention the Shiragami case? It seemed so long ago already, Makoto-san's attempt to sully Kudo Shinichi's name, accidental APTX antidote… was there something about that case that Hattori needed to discuss, or was it something related, or something else entirely?

And even before the message, why call the Kudo landline when Conan knew for a fact that the dark-skinned teen hadn't even tried to dial his cell phone first, because the Tokyoite had never been contacted by the Osakan. Hold on… why was he thinking about Hattori's message like it was some kind of _sayonara?_ Hattori could not have known he would be the next victim beforehand, otherwise he would definitely had said so in the message.

The light bulb inside Conan's mind clicked on. _Unless the culprit told him not to!_

His mind raced at a million miles an hour. The culprit contacted Hattori beforehand, probably threatened him in order for him to cooperate. Was he allowed to say goodbye? Or did Hattori do that on his own? The circumstantial evidence was _too _circumstantial, but better than nothing at all.

Did the culprit contact all his victims before kidnapping them? Or was Hattori the first? The only way to find out was dig deep into the past eleven victims, look for any similarities, any connections, any excruciating detail. Memorize everything, find a clue to save Hattori and stop any more kidnappings.

Conan pulled his bowtie forward, adjusting the dials to the appropriate setting before flipping open his cell phone and dialing a number. His expression was one of pure determination, the confident smile once locked away inside now coming forth.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Megure-keibu, it's Shinichi," Shinichi said. "I need a favor."

**So, that's it! Longest chapter yet, and next time we'll learn more about the previous victims!**

**Let me know what you think, and I'll try to update again as soon as I can. As always, thanks for reading!**

**Coming Up: Chapter 6 – In Which Conan Investigates**


	6. In Which Conan Investigates

**Ah, I'm late again. Sorry, sorry. I lost the file I had on the other murders (without a backup, stupid me) so I had to recreate all of it. That took A LOT of my time, most of it being recreated from scratch. Plus I found an error in my calculations, had to go back and fix **_**that**_**. UGH.**

**I hope ya'll had an awesome Halloween! My stomach hurts just thinking about all the candy I'm gonna mooch off my sister. XD Yeah, I was in charge of the candy at home while she went out collecting. Curse of teachers giving homework on Halloween. Ridiculous.**

**WARNING. The following chapter contains some gruesome circumstances. If you get kinda queasy about reading this kind of stuff, please skim lightly. I get queasy about this kind of stuff, so no I didn't look up pictures for inspiration. If anything seems unrealistic, I apologize.**

**Also… if any readers happen to be not from the United States (where I am), please excuse any name inconsistencies or something. But there's only so many baby-naming websites and the like to go on, and most of them are made up… if it sounds French, then it was French. Sounded Chinese? Then it was Chinese. I have no qualms about being informed of this. Heh.**

**Anyway, happy belated birthday to 1412Renkonalu!**

**Review Corner:**

**Anonymous – **Phew! Good. I thought I totally messed up Ai-chan. She's an awesome character, but so hard to write. I'm glad I got the slightly morbid side. Maybe I get that from writing too much Nico Robin. Hmm. Thanks for your review!

**Great – **Yes, it is moving. It'll probably be slow this chapter, but information is vital, and it all needs to be said. But like I said, your solution may be correct, and it may not be. All in due time. A long time, if my outline serves. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

**Tantei-chan – **You don't mind the lethal suspense? Then you have a stronger immune system than me. I hate the suspense… and love it at the same time. And trust me when I say, I am not the most evil of cliffhanger-writers. The One Piece fanfic authors are freakin' trolls, I'm telling ya. They feed off readers' misery. So does Riordan. UGH. But thanks for reviewing!

**1412Renkonalu – **Happy (really) belated birthday! How does it feel to finally be sixteen!? I didn't feel sixteen when my birthday rolled around. But give it a few months, and maybe I'll finally feel eighteen? Hmm. A high probability? What makes you say that? *whistles nonchalantly* I don't know what you're talking about… I need to take lessons from Kaito-kun on Poker Faces. Mine sucks. Aww… thank you! I'd be happy to take a look at your stuff if you need. ;D And there is no way I can surpass Sandman. It's too awesome. Thank you for reviewing!

Chapter 6 – In Which Conan Investigates

"_Data! Data! Data! I can't make  
bricks without clay."  
Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_

Megure was pretty sure he broke not only every traffic law in Japan but also the damn sound barrier as he travelled toward the Kudo residence in the second district, sirens blaring. The sirens probably weren't necessary, but it sure as hell cleared traffic. And Megure was in a bit of a hurry.

Takagi screeched to a stop outside the tall western-styled house. He hadn't even reached for the seat belt buckle before Megure was already out the door and ringing the bell at the front gate. Takagi and the extra volunteer fetched the heavy boxes of files from the trunk and joined their senior officer next to the gate.

The big brown doors opened slightly at the other end of the walk, and all three investigators held their breath. Would Kudo really be at his house like he said? Takagi hadn't seen the teen detective in a long time, and couldn't remember a time when he'd really had a face-to-face conversation with the guy.

"Megure-keibu! Takagi-keiji!" Conan chirped, appearing from the confines to the large mansion. "The gate's open."

Megure coughed as he tested the latch; it was indeed unlocked. "So it is." As he and his officers loaded down with boxes approached, he said, "Where's Kudo-kun?"

Conan shrugged. "He had a weird look on his face and ran out a few minutes ago. I'm not sure when he'll be back." He smiled when he saw the boxes. "Oh, wow! Are those really all the files?"

"Yes," Megure said. "I'll stay here until Kudo-kun returns so we can go over them together."

"No!" Conan said, a little too quickly. Megure and Takakgi looked at him strangely, and the false child quickly caught himself. "I mean, Shinichi-niisan said to just leave the boxes with me and he would take a look at them when he got home, and give you a call when he was done."

'That so?" Takagi muttered, a little downhearted.

Megure stroked his moustache. Conan prayed to every and any god he could think of that the Inspector would leave… he didn't have time to arrange a Shinichi-substitute. Finally, the old detective finally agreed, and Conan directed the officers to the library, where the heavy boxes were deposited on the sturdy reading desk.

"I'll have Shinichi-niisan give you a call when he gets back," Conan promised, quickly ushering Megure and Takagi out the door.

"But Conan-kun…" Megure began, but he soon found himself talking to the closed door. On the other side, the faux child sighed heavily, sliding down the wood to sit on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. It was beginning to dawn on him he couldn't keep repressing his older self's disappearance much longer.

But that would have to be worried about later. He had a long night ahead of him.

Before he began engrossing himself in the boxes of case files, he gave the Agency a quick call to inform Ran that he would be spending the night at Agasa's. She gave quite an argument that he would be doing so on a school night, but with a little persuasion, she gave in. The next call was to Agasa to help set up somewhat of an alibi. Haibara was informed to tell the Detective Boys he'd gotten sick again. She didn't seem too enthusiastic, but it was always hard to tell with the mini scientist.

Now it was time to get to work. Notepad and pencil ready for note taking, Conan ripped open the first box.

First order of business was to arrange the files in chronological order. Some folders were thick, others with only two or three papers inside. It goes to show just how much Interpol trusted their agents. Conan didn't blame them… the probability that the culprit was one of their officials was only five percent, since they traveled globally a lot, but probability was probability nonetheless. Of course they wouldn't release too much information.

Pen in hand, Conan finally flipped open the first victim's file and spread the papers around him. Attached to the front page was a photograph of a nice-looking Chinese teenager with straight black hair and piercing eyes. Dark patches resided beneath those eyes, like he hadn't slept in weeks.

**Name: **Sung Wang Ming**  
Nationality: **Chinese**  
Gender: **Male**  
Age: **16  
**Birthday: **September 3  
**Parent 1: **Sung Peng Jo Yin  
**Parent 2: **Sung Lan Den

Conan skimmed over most of these details, taking notes in chicken scratch as we went, marking anything that could possibly be a connection between the victims.

**Found: **Mexco City, Mexico**  
Date/Time of Death: **October 4, 5:65 pm**  
Cause of Death: **Single shot to the heart**  
Circumstances: **Found by Fernando Lopez while walking his dog. Alone at the time the body was discovered partially hidden under a bush in a national park.**  
Other: **Body severely bruised, but no other indications of physical injury besides single hole in chest and shoulder where bullet passed through.

Conan looked at the photo, the bile in his stomach bubbling dangerously. He'd seen some pretty beat up bodies before… hell, one guy had lost his head directly behind him on a roller coaster! But now… the face was nigh unrecognizable as the face in the school photo. Skin bruised black and blue, puffed around the eyes and cheeks. A few scratches covered his shirtless torso. The fingernails had something caked beneath them; he had a sinking suspicion it wasn't dirt.

Conan's expert eyes roved over the photo, permanently imprinting the image into his memory before closing Wang Ming's file and moving on to the second victim, a bloke by the name of Lukas Schneider. This kid was fairly dark-skinned, but not as tan as Hattori. His hair was a pale blonde, close cropped around his forehead and ears. Green eyes stared intimidatingly back at him, daring Conan to cross him.

**Name: **Lukas Schneider  
**Nationality: **German  
**Gender: **Male  
**Age: **16  
**Birthday: **January 18  
**Parent 1: **Friederich Schneider  
**Parent 2: **Conradina Schneider  
**Found: **Ottawa, Canada  
**Date/Time of Death: **September 18, 3:40 am  
**Cause of Death: **Single shot to the heart  
**Circumstances: **Body discovered by Linda Woods when driving; discovered suspended from lamppost by wrist over rural road.  
**Other: **Body shows sign of physical abuse; autopsy reveals large quantities of chloroform and other sedative agents.

Conan unconsciously noted that Schneider's birth date, the eighteenth, was the same as his discovery date. But eighteen didn't relate at all to Sung Wang Ming, unless Conan counted the number of bruises on his face alone. The photographs of the body were even worse than the Chinese teen's. Suspended by the left wrist on a telephone poll, shoulder obviously pulled out of socket with dried blood from a hole in his bare chest caked around his collar. His face was permanently contorted into one of pain but also of firm defiance, like he'd been fighting till the very end.

Conan swallowed hard and moved on.

**Name: **Juste Ackhart  
**Nationality: **French  
**Gender: **Male  
**Age: **15  
**Birthday: **April 30  
**Parent 1: **Charlene Ackhart  
**Parent 2: **Unknown  
**Found: **Washington DC, United States  
**Date/Time of Death: **October 3, 6:40 am  
**Cause of Death: **Single shot to the heart  
**Circumstances: **Body discovered by Richard Bunden when driving; found suspended from tree branch by the neck.  
**Other: **No sign of asphyxiation, autopsy shows severe case of malnutrition

Conan examined Juste's photograph. The French detective had a look of serenity around his features, like he had accepted his death. Deeply religious and faithful, maybe. No bruises or other signs of strangulation upon the neck, but Conan did spot a patch of skin on the body's lower back, a shiny red color like the skin had been burned away and never finished healing.

Before he moved on, the chibi tantei gathered a map of the globe and a red sharpie marker, placing a red dot in Mexico, Canada, and Greenland. A close examination showed that the detectives had been found in each nation's capital city. Could that be a pattern?

For confirmation, the next file was opened for the fourth victim. The boy was tanned, his curly hair and pointed face giving him the image of an imp, a sly smile contrasting his observant gaze.

**Name: **Pablo Fernandez Jr.  
**Nationality: **Spanish  
**Gender: **Male  
**Age: **17  
**Birthday: **December 12  
**Parent 1: **Pablo Fernandez Sr.  
**Parent 2: **Maria Fernandez  
**Found: **Nuuk, Greenland  
**Date/Time of Death: **October 16, 2:10 am  
**Cause of Death: **Single shot to the heart  
**Circumstances: **Body discovered by Adela Lopez outside her home; discovered stuffed in potato sack in a trash bin  
**Other: **Scar over left ear, probably from gunshot. Wound relatively fresh; autopsy shows damage to cerebrum in the brain, suggesting mild to severe case of amnesia.

Conan felt bad for the impish Pablo Fernandez Jr. He had reason to believe Fernandez wasn't following through with what his captor had in mind. Had he solved the case but refused to reveal the answer? Or simply refused to solve it at all? Whatever it was, the culprit had gotten impatient, and fired a single shot intended to scare or incite willingness in the victim, but the shot did more damage than intended, permanently disabling Fernandez and making him just dead weight.

But it did confirm that the bodies would appear in national capital cities. It was something, at least. And so far, all the detectives had been killed with a shot to the heart.

The next four hours were spent in the Kudo library lit only by lamplight, poring over file after file after file. The fifth victim, Russian detective Alexei Larov, eighteen, was discovered in Managua, Nicaragua, stuffed in a car trunk. Pakistani detective Zuniya Tauqi, the first female victim, age eighteen, was in Lima, Peru, crucified to a church steeple. That photo had been particularly gruesome, rivers of dried blood caked across her arms and under what probably was once a shirt but now existed only as something to barely cover her chest.

Swedish detective, sixteen year old Eleonora Adolfsson was found in Caracas, Venezuela, tied to a stake and set on fire. Forensics were only able to identify the red-haired girl by the remnants of her teeth. The next detective, fifteen year old Indian boy named Ajit Haryana was discovered in Brasília, Brazil, lashed to a tree with the body of a dead python, puncture marks like teeth clearly visible on his upper arms and neck area. Ajit's blood was found the snake's mouth.

Seventeen year old Canadian girl, Adaline Li, was the ninth victim. At this point, the nations of the world were on red alert, keeping eyes peeled and national armies on standby, ready to apprehend the culprit. But that didn't stop the discovery of Adaline in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The pretty brunette was severely beaten, and the photos revealed slash wounds across the shoulders and back. British girl Rachel Harris, sixteen, was number ten, found in Algiers, Algeria. A child discovered the body in a well, tied at the wrists by the bucket rope.

The only consolation Conan received from this was that KID-crazed detective Saguru Hakuba was safe. The guy was half-British, half-Japanese, if Conan's memory served from the Detective Requiem case at the golden manor. There was no telling for which country he would be taken from, _should _he have been taken. But now that Rachel Harris and Hattori were gone, Hakuba should be safe.

And finally appeared Yakov Goldstein's file, the eleventh and most recent victim. Conan already knew most of the details of that case, since he had listened in on the report. But he noticed an annotation had been made to the bottom of the file:

_Addition to dying message found: closer examination of the feet reveals another symbol: 9. The message is now 1-2-4-9._

Conan was stumped. This must have been recent, within the past two days at least, if that. He added this new vital information to his data bank and skimmed quickly through Goldstein's file to see if anything else had been discovered. Seeing none, he replaced the file, and proceeded to straighten up.

Under his large map with red dots all over it, Conan suddenly spotted another manila folder, thin and unopened. Conan furrowed his eyebrows. He had been sure he had read them all. Flipping it open, he inhaled sharply.

Twelfth victim, Greek teen Abderos Buros, found in Abuja, Nigeria only the day before. Conan mentally cursed. Once again he had been too slow. There was no doubt now that Hattori would be next if he wasn't found in time.

Four hours in that library produced very little. Conan was slightly disappointed in himself that it didn't unleash any stunning epiphany, but then he needed to be realistic. The probability of a "stunning epiphany" was one in a billion, and he had gotten carried away with the investigation. It was time to come back to earth.

As promised, Conan called Megure-keibu as Shinichi and explained his findings: that the victims were all shot through the heart and died instantly. The bodies were all discovered in the nation's capital city, and the body count appeared to be moving from West to East, whereas the kidnappings had no particular order. He was still trying to figure out a patter to that, if a such a pattern existed.

"Yeah, we got the capital city part," Megure gruffed on the opposite end of the line. "But I never noticed the West to East part. Thanks, Kudo-kun!"

"No problem," Shinichi said, his voice weak from lack of sleep. A quick glance at the wall clock told him it was about two o'clock in the morning. He stifled a yawn as Megure commended him for his hard work and finally ordered him to sleep.

"I'll come check on you in the mor –"

"No, Inspector," Shinichi interrupted. "I need to leave immediately to finish up the big case I'm working on. I just came by to see what you have and come to my own conclusions. Believe you me, Inspector, I want to solve this global case more than anyone. But I want to do it on my own terms."

Shinichi could hear the doubt in Megure-keibu's voice as he responded. "If it's what you want, Kudo-kun, I won't stop you. But please, don't hesitate to call me."

"I know. Thanks, keibu," Shinichi said, and ended the conversation.

Conan was exhausted, and his voice-manipulating bowtie hit the floor as it slid through his tired fingers. His eyes burned behind the glasses from staring at tiny print for so long, and his brain was fatigued with lack of nutrients. He could feel his eyelids slowly gaining weight as they slid closed across his eyes.

He fought the sleep. Conan couldn't afford to drift into slumber, not now when he was close to a breakthrough. There was something there that he was missing, something important. But what could it be!? Dammit!

Conan's brain worked against him, and he slumped to the table, his cheek pressed against the photo of Buros, suspended from a tree by his ankles. _Tomorrow… yeah, try again tomorrow, _his overworked brain whispered seductively, and this time Conan gave no complains as sleep over came him.

**Okay: recap:**

**Nationality – Name – Gender – Age – Discovered In**

China - Sung Wang Ming - M - 16 - Mexico  
Germany - Lukas Schneider - M - 16 - Canada  
France - Juste Ackhart - M - 15 - USA  
Spain - Pablo Fernandez - M - Greenland  
Russia - Alexei Larov - M - 18 - Nicaragua  
Pakistan - Zuniya Tauqi - F - 18 - Peru  
Sweden - Eleonora Adolfsson - F - 16 - Venezuela  
India - Ajit Haryana - M - 15 - Brazil  
Canada - Adaline Li - F - 17 - Argentina  
Britain - Rachel Harris - F - 16 - Algeria  
Israel - Yakov Goldstein - M - 18 - Egypt  
Greece - Abderus Buros - M - 17 - Nigeria

**Thanks for being patient guys, you're the best! :D**

**Coming Up: In Which Heiji Solves the First Code**


	7. In Which Heiji Solves the First Code

**No one panic. Yes, I did change the title from **_**Down for the Count **_**to **_**Ubiquitous. **_**I think it fits better. Ubiquitous means basically to be everywhere at once, and doesn't that apply to our culprit!? So no panicking. Please. :D**

**Okay. For the sake of language barriers, here's my solution. Because this story is written in English, but the characters are speaking Japanese, other languages **_**besides **_**Japanese will be in italics. It's mostly to help with distinguishing between the two. Pretend it's like the London case, with Japanese subtitles under the Londoners' speech. Cough.**

**Guest Review Corner:**

**Aperio – **Hehe, thanks so much! Enjoy the chapter.

**Great – **The rookie, huh? That would be Takahashi-keiji. With a keen eye for details, (one truth prevails!) the clues will all add up eventually. Man, EVERYONE wants Conan kidnapped. Geez. It's not gonna be that simple. But that's for reviewing!

**Tantei-chan – **I hated writing those circumstances. Especially Lukas Schneider hanging from the lamp post. *shiver* I feel like such a bad person. _Arigatou gosaimashita! _^_^

**ESTELLE – **I seriously need to take lessons from Kaito-kun on Poker Faces. It's killing me on the inside not to blurt out some huge spoiler. :( Thanks for the review!

Chapter 7 – In Which Heiji Solves the First Code

"_Education never ends, Watson. It's a  
series of lessons, with the  
greatest for the last."  
Sherlock Holmes, His Last Bow_

Heiji was not having a good day. He couldn't think of anything else to describe it, so he went with "not good" and left it at that.

He could still feel the chloroform in his system; it was impossible to lift his head from the cold cobblestones of his prison, wherever that was. The cold slimy-ness of the stones chilled him right through his shirt. He was lying on side; that much he could gather. His wrists were lashed to his ankles behind his back with what he suspected was piano wire, but it was difficult to tell due from his still-drugged mind or just plain mental exhaustion. He knew without looking that he'd somehow lost his favorite cap amidst the struggle in the bullet train, and he sighed longingly.

Heiji tried to force his eyelids to part, but he might as well have tried to pull apart the world's strongest magnets with nothing but his mind. He could dimly hear hordes of people milling around somewhere, talking animatedly in wonderment. It took him a full five minutes to realize they were speaking English. Was he in America? How long had he been out? Long enough to have been transported across twelve time zones, apparently.

He figured his disappearance was being investigated by now. He could only hope Kudo wasn't too depressed to do anything about it. His shrunken friend really could be pessimistic when he felt like he was useless. It was one of the (few, or many, depending on who you talked to) faults of the Eastern Detective. But he knew Kudo would eventually get his ass in gear and start investigating. Heiji hoped his cell phone had been discovered. After making sure the locked file on it was secure, he planted it beneath his seat before leaving. It was the best he had, and hoped Kudo would be able to decipher the unlock code from his message.

The kidnapped detective had no idea how long he lay there in his cell, but long enough that he could feel himself slowly regaining control of his limbs (mostly), and finally managed to open his eyes to be nearly blinded by the light streaming in from a miniscule window high above his head. It was from here the conversations were coming from. On a table directly below the window as a small table with a black box sitting ominously on it. Heiji couldn't see much of the box from the angle at which he lay, but to him it looked like some sort of briefcase or laptop bag.

Heiji had just finished counting the cracks in the wall when footsteps echoed somewhere behind him. Craning his neck to look behind him, he found a tall iron door, with no visible locking mechanisms. Between the space between door and floor, two shadows appeared. Heiji's eyes narrowed.

A screech roared through the confinement room, ringing the detective's eardrums excessively and making him wince from the pain. He couldn't clap his hands over his ears, so he did his best to press his aching shoulders against the sides of his face. The second his head turned, something was tossed in the room, and a white gas exploded around him.

Heiji's eyes began to water, salty tears streaming down the sides of his face as he coughed, the jerking motion of his body placing strain on his already stressed limbs. His entire body convulsed in spasms, shaking uncontrollably as his wrists and ankles strained against the bonds. Through misty eyes, he could see a tall dark shadow moving around him, and he could feel an intense gaze roving over him like he was some sort of worthless rodent.

"Who…" Heiji tried to cough out, but it came out more like "Chhooo…"

The shadow said something, a robotic noise like when a child spoke through a high-speed rotating fan. It sounded like a bunch of mixed up jibberish to him, and he tried to inform the shadow of this, but it only resulted in a whooping cough. The shadow seemed to realize that he could not understand, and a few bumps and clicks and automated voices later, a female monotonic drone interpreted into Japanese.

"You're Hattori Heiji, Japanese detective? Please confirm."

Heiji coughed his confirmation.

"Age seventeen, born July 30 to Hattori Heizo and Hattori Shizuka?"

Heiji's watery eyes narrowed, glaring at the shadow, which had moved behind the table with the black box. "What's it ta ya?" he huffed.

The Voice spoke again, and the box translated. "Identity confirmed. Thank you for accepting the challenge."

"The hell!?" Heiji's voice was strained, but his initial symptoms of coughing and watering eyes was beginning to wear off, and he felt a little better. The white blanket of fog still circulated through the room, shrouding the other person from his view. "I had no choice but to accept the challenge 'cuz ya threatened Kazuha! If I had ma own way, I would still be at home."

The Voice chuckled, a condescending ring to it. The translation failed to pick it up. "Ha ha ha," said the computer unceremoniously. "We both know that's not true. I've researched you; your reputation labels you as someone who never refuses a challenge. You've even landed yourself a sidekick."

A sidekick? Could the Voice be referring to Ku– Conan? A part of Heiji wanted to jump up and down in a five second dance party because someone had referred to Kudo as his _sidekick_ rather than his _equal,_ but he figured it wasn't the time for a joyful rendition of the Macarena.

A confident smirk curled the tanned teen's lips. "Okay, sue me for being int'rested. But why me of all people?"

The Voice contemplated this before answering. It spoke a word, and Heiji was unsure whether he heard the translation correctly.

"Just because."

Something collided with his face. The bridge of his nose stung from impact, but nothing felt bruised. Looking at the object, Heiji felt a wave of relief sweep over him as the familiar symbol of the Osaka baseball team staring back at him over the brim of his favorite cap.

Heiji could hear the smirk in the Voice's tone.

"Shall we begin?"

.o0o.

Heiji heaved a huge sigh and rested his chin in his hand, staring at the paper in front of him. He could help but compare his predicament to the last case he'd been involved in regarding his own kidnapping, the one with the tax evasion scandal in which he had Kazuha had been tied up in some old woman's attic. The only real difference was that A) Kazuha wasn't here, B) Kudo wasn't anywhere near him, C) he wasn't _quite _as beaten up and D) he didn't even _look_ like himself.

"_Another coffee, sir?"_ the woman asked, gesturing at his empty cup.

"_Yes, please,"_ Heiji responded, not moving his eyes from the paper. The now-filled cup went unnoticed, however, as his attention was one hundred percent on this quiz.

He shifted positions in his chair, feeling the hard plastic press against his chest and abdomen. He'd been in sticky situations before, but none quite so drastic as to having plastic bombs strapped to him beneath the long overcoat he was wearing. To any normal outsider, Hattori Heiji appeared as a middle-aged balding man, pale-skinned and quite heavy around the middle. His cap was in the laptop bag around his shoulder. A nametag identified him as John Smith, attorney.

Heiji only somewhat remembered what had transpired after his conversation with The Voice. He had begun to grow sleepy, and by the time it registered that some diluted slow-acting anesthetic was in the white fog, he was already limp as a rag doll, and had been dragged into a chair and pounced upon. He had awoken to his new identity as John Smith, the bombs already set to detonate at the single press of a button. A tracking device was set into his watch.

Left at an outside dining table for a small cafe, clutching a single paper in his hand, Hattori Heiji was on his own, without so much as a hint.

In the distance he could see Big Ben rising above the trees. London. He was in London. How appropriate. Luckily, the language barrier was no problem for him. But did this specific location have anything to do with the case? It was too early to rule out that possibility.

_Where best to hide a tree but in a forest?_ Heiji wondered grudgingly to himself, returning his gaze to the code. _No wonder the missing detectives weren't found. They were hiding in plain sight. Yukai had a way with prosthetics; I'll give 'im that._

Yukai was the term Heiji had temporarily dubbed the Voice. It meant _kidnapper._ Which seemed suitable.

Back to the code.

**91023241821101**

A bunch of numbers.

He was probably over thinking it, but it didn't help that Yukai had given him only eight hours to figure it out. It had seemed a lot at the start, but staring at a sheet of paper can really make time fly. With Big Ben as his countdown, Heiji's time was halfway up. It truly is amazing how many cups of coffee someone can go through in four hours.

Heiji had added and subtracted and added and divided and taken the square root of and any other possible mathematical approach to the equation. But whatever he tried didn't yield any results. He tried changing the numbers to letters of the Japanese hiragana, katakana, romaji alphabets. He tried changing them to English letters, and still no results. All he got from that was

**I-A-0-B-C-B-D-A-H-B-A-A-0-A**

And unless it was an anagram for something, it was useless.

He had to think. Most codes were not as complicated as they seemed, usually with simple answers that make the decoder go "UGH, Why didn't I get that!?" when the solution is revealed. So he had to think on simpler terms. But what if that was what the culprit wanted? Some kind of reverse psychology trick?

No. The culprit would not have given him such a time limit if he felt that it was _too _complicated.

Heiji reflected on one of his favorite Ellery Queen quotes: "_Now, why didn't I think of this before? Probably because it's so simple." _He was definitely overthinking how to go about deciphering the code. Making codes took time, and ciphers were _made_ to be solved, so they had to be difficult, but also relatively simple.

Heiji figured he was probably on the right track when he was changing the numbers to letters, the most basic decoding technique in the book. _Think!_ He wracked his brain, probably looking very strange to passersby. _THINK! Any subtle clues, hints, references, ANYTHING!_

Why bring him all the way to London? Why not lock him up somewhere in Japan? Being overseas wouldn't do much; Interpol would no doubt be on the lookout all over the world for a teenage Japanese kid fitting his description. Unless being overseas in a foreign country was part of the key to deciphering the code?

As Heiji began to scribble unintelligibly on the sixteenth paper he'd copied the code on, a group of Hispanic women sat at the table behind him, talking rapidly in Spanish.

"_Dime otra vez, ¿cómo Philip propone?"_

"_Bueno, él me llevó a ver los fuegos artificiales en el lago Windermere semana pasada, y sacó el anillo durante el final! El barco entero estalló en aplausos."_

"_¡Enhorabuena! Eso es maravilloso!"_

Two men at the table were arguing at the next table over. Their British accents identified them as natives. "_Please, sir!"_ The first one pleaded. _ "I only need a small pay raise! My wife is going to have another child soon, and I need more money to help pay for the hospital fees."_

"_Absolutely not," _the second man growled. _"Find a second job if you must, but I cannot afford to give you a raise now."_ They continued to bicker back and forth, and ultimately the employee was dismissed from his job, and the poor guy was left alone sobbing.

"_Urusai…" _Heiji mumbled, and then he suddenly paused.

The penny dropped. The light bulb clicked on. A bolt of lightning flashed behind him. A Blue's Clue appeared. However it was described, Heiji had a revelation. His eyes widened, and he stood up sharply from his seat. Quickly collecting his many papers and stuffing them into his laptop bag, Heiji left the appropriate money for his drinks and hurried to find the nearest cab.

Thirty minutes saw the disguised detective taking the Central London Library steps two at a time, with far more agility than a middle-aged man should have. Heart pounding, Heiji burst through the doors and sprinted for the cataloging computer, drawing curious stares from other occupants.

Heiji bolted for the appropriate shelves, and ripped Spanish, English, Indonesian, and any other language's dictionary from the shelf, piling the books around him at a nearby table.

He had been right when he figured that changing numbers to letters was the decipher code. What he _hadn't _considered that the change in atmosphere, flying him all the way to London where the language diversity was much more profound than Japan, was _part _of the cipher. Heiji stole a glance at his watch: 5:24 pm. He had until eight o'clock before things went sour, so he had better get to work.

.o0o.

"_Sir? Excuse me, sir?"_

Heiji raised his head from the table, staring bleary-eyed at the woman standing over him. "Huh?"

"_The library is closing," _the woman informed him. "_I'm going to have to ask you to leave."_

Heiji's eyes widened, flying toward a clock on the wall. Seven thirty already!? He shook his head to clear his thoughts, putting on a defensive smile. "_Sorry," _he said in English. _"Time must have gotten away from me. I'll put my books back and be out soon."_

She nodded and moved away. Heiji began to replace the books on the shelf, a weary smile on his face. It had taken nearly three hours to finally figure out just what the code meant, and it _had _been fairly simple now that he knew the pattern.

It was a simple matter of combining numbers. Assuming the numbers were changed to alphabets, there could be no more than about thirty-five letters. Using this knowledge, Heiji only had to combine the numbers in a certain order and replace them with the letters. Of course, the sequence had to be changed often if the word didn't make sense, but finally, one sequence finally sounded thorough.

He clutched the solution paper in his hand. As Heiji exited the library and raised his hand to call a cab, he felt something hard press against the small of his back. He instantly froze, hand still poised above his head.

"Don't move," a voice whispered in Japanese, a deep husky tone Heiji didn't recognize.

There was no one around, and from the corner of his eye he could see that all the security cameras were angled away from them. His sight was soon obscured, however, when a cloth was draped around his eyes. An engine approached, and Heiji was pushed inside the car. He memorized the different turns, mentally charting a course of roadwork for future reference.

The car came to an abrupt halt, and Heiji was once again wrestled from the vehicle and let roughly by the arm to… well, no idea. Somewhere. Heiji's eyes flickered restlessly behind the cloth, screaming to have their purpose restored, finally it was, and Heiji squinted into the bright light shining in his face.

It was a moment before he realized that sometime during the walk, he had been stripped of his John Smith guise and the bombs as well, left only in a pair of khakis. His wrists were fastened behind him to a long chain snaking across the floor to connect with the wall. Directly before him was the same small table with the same small black box. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a tall figured shrouded in darkness, face obscured by shadows.

"So, Hattori Heiji?" the black box said following the Voice's initial query. "What has today's results yielded?"

"I solved the first code," Heiji declared confidently. "It was simple really, once I figured it out."

"Oh?" the interpreter said. "And what is the solution?"

Heiji told it. He explained his reasoning, going into as much detail as he could muster. The Voice didn't interrupt through his monologue, but something he said somewhere along the line of _library _and _dictionary_ made it hiss quietly. When he finished, Heiji sat in silence, his bare back pressed against the wall and his throat dry from all his talking.

The shadow's shoes clicked against the stone floor as it slowly moved toward him, an arm pulling something from its belt. Before he could blink, something snapped by Heiji's ear, nicking the skin and sending a reverberating sound right through to his eardrums. Heiji let out a cry as he was temporarily deafened in his right ear.

_A whip,_ Heiji managed to think before the process was repeated on his left side. This time however, the whip snapped closer to his face, and he could feel a trickle of blood begin to slide down his cheek from the fresh cut.

Vaguely, Heiji could somehow comprehend the Voice's (or rather the computer's) next words. "That is your prize for solving the code," it crooned. "You should be thanking me. I'm not feeling generous today."

_Partially deafening me is your definition of not generous?_ Heiji muttered to himself.

"But just because I'm not feeling generous," the Voice's interpreter said. "Doesn't mean that my boys aren't. So enjoy their company, and then we'll continue tomorrow."

The shadow moved toward the door, the large hunk of iron screaming on rusted hinges as it was forced open. The Voice's shadow was replaced by two larger, burly men with ski masks on their heads. Heiji had a bad feeling that negotiation was not going to be an option, so he resigned himself.

Closing his eyes, Heiji waited.

**I did research on Ellery Queen. I had no idea who he was, and now I have a deep respect for Hattori for actually taking an interest in an American 1970s detective novel/TV show. It was quite interesting, really. **

**Okay, native Spanish-speakers. Don't kill the person who only uses Google translate in sticky situations. Kay?**

**So what do you think the answer to the code is? Can you figure it out? I'll tell you if you got it right or wrong, and the answer will be revealed when we see Heiji again!**

**Thanks all for reading, and 5 reviews get the next chapter!**

**Coming Up: Chapter 8 – In Which More People Die and Ran Gets Worried**


End file.
